A Game of Thrones: The House of Wayne
by OccamsChainsaw15
Summary: While the lords of Westoros battle for the crown, the last living member of the House of Wayne wages his own war in the shadows. Told from the perspectives of characters as it is in the books. Current characters are: Bruce, Alfred, Gordon, Dick, Selina, Harvey Dent, and the Joker.
1. Prologue Chapter 1-3

**PROLOGUE**

_Bruce_: Chapter 1

Every day he had to wake early, long before sun rise in fact, but it rarely bothered him. Sleep rarely came easy to Bruce. While spoiled lords and kings such as that famed drunkard Robert Baratheon from across the sea could sleep day and night for hours on end if they chose to, Bruce considered a long night's rest to be three or four hours. Sometimes even a young man as silent and stoic as himself could only help but to let a small smile loose upon his lips when he thought of the terrible irony. The sigil of his family, the house of Wayne, was the bat, a creature of the night that in turn rested during the day. But Bruce was restless no matter what time of day it was, whether it was working, training, or learning during the day or laying in his bed for hours on end waiting for sleep to overtake him and always disappointed when it did not.

_We are the night, _his house took as their creed. Bruce had always thought of this as a rather dark phrase even compared to the Greyjoy's or Stark's, but his father always argued that the opposite was in fact true. "Sometimes Bruce, the things that work in the dark are what can best help those living in the light" his father always told him while Bruce sat atop his knee as a boy. His father's explanation never made sense to him as a boy, but now Bruce felt as if he was closer to understanding his father's puzzling words. Sadly, he never got the chance to ask his father what he meant before his and his mother's untimely deaths when Bruce was only eight.

The funeral was a rather large and populated event, as both his parents were well known throughout the seven kingdoms. Bruce stood at his family's faithful servant Alfred's side with as stone solid of a face as he could muster the strength for. He knew if even a slip of emotion showed Bruce would not have the strength to hold back the inevitable flood of tears and sobbing. He was a Wayne, and a man almost fully grown, he could not act like some scared boy now that he was the last remaining Wayne among the living. Alfred, ever loyal, stood by Bruce's side as lords and ladies from across the regions of Westeros visited to pay their respects to two individuals who most of them had not seen more than once or twice in their lives. First were the Karstarks, Oakhearts, some of the Freys, some lords or representatives of the houses Tully or Tyrell or Florent…Bruce could hardly remember. Not that it mattered, all of the sigils and faces Bruce saw that day became one opaque blur of nothingness that simply drifted to the back of the boy's mind.

Most of these people knew of his parents simply because they were the second richest house of the seven kingdoms, dwarfed only by the Lannisters. Ironically, the only representative of the house of lions to appear was the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. He was a welcome sight to the young Bruce even if it was simply because for once Bruce did not need to look up and strain his neck to say "Thank you" when a visitor apologized for his loss. The Imp approached him slowly but determined, it was hard to tell what the dwarf was feeling as his face was rather stoic and unemotional, and his mismatched-colored eyes seemed to be looking through Bruce.

As Tyrion opened his mouth to speak, Bruce could immediately smell alcohol on his breath and wondered if the small lord relied on the bottle in times of trouble and if it would help him to try it at all.

"I am incredibly sorry for your loss dear boy, your parents were paragons of generosity and kindness in these lands wrought with selfishness and power-thirsting. They will be greatly missed," the dwarf said with occasional flickers of sorrow escaping the halfling's otherwise perfectly sculpted mask of apathy.

Bruce could only respond with "What do you know of my parents?" with an admittedly thick layer of distaste and anger. What did this spoiled rich freak know of loss? When had this Lannister, the richest family in the world most likely, know of feeling alone?

"Master Bruce…" Alfred began to say before the dwarf raised his hand for silence, never looking away from the young boy's gaze.

Tyrion let a small smile creep across his lips, as he said, "I admit, I did not know your parents personally, I've only ever seen them once, three years ago when your family visited ours at Casterly Rock, but even then I could see how much they cared for you. Their eyes lit up with a light similar to the look my father gave when watching his army overtake an enemy's, or when my uncle eyes an especially tasty tart to take to bed that night. And ah yes, I know of feeling alone boy, if it were not for this lion on my chest I would not have even made it to your age before getting kicked out in the cold to suffer like a freak of nature." The dwarf paused before continuing, "When we are alone, that is when we find our true strength, as a dwarf, I had to learn to accept peoples' constant gazing down upon me. I had to turn it into my weapon, use it to make myself taller than the other men who looked down on me could ever hope to be. So as an orphan, I ask you young Wayne, what is it that will make you strong? What will make you taller than other men?"

Bruce stood their open mouthed, not knowing how to reply, simply feeling more foolish of a boy than if he had broken down crying. The Imp merely looked away from the young lord's gaze for a moment before slowly gazing back to meet eyes, patted his shoulder, and gave a small reassuring smile before finally walking away. From that moment on, Bruce never looked at his own shadow and thought _how small a shadow I cast on this world_ but rather _soon other men will look upon my shadow, and know that Bruce Wayne, the last of his name, is in their presence_.

A knock at the door stirred Bruce from his daydreams of the past. Bruce stood from his comfortable bed with red satin sheets and walked to open the door. On the other side of the thick wooden door was a messenger from his master, holding a note bearing the snarling wolf's head surrounded by green fire of his master's house. Bruce was to meet him at the sparring fields for sunrise. Bruce immediately went to his closet, slipping his white training tunic with green trim on and fastening the black belt accompanying it around his waist.

Half an hour later, Bruce looked out upon the large lake that lay next to the training fields. He could not help but marvel at the way the light hit the water turning the lake from a vivid golden hue to such a dark, deep shade of blue that seemed should only be seen of seawater. Bruce was aroused from his trance when he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. Bruce turned to greet his master with the ceremonial bow, and looked up to meet the man's gaze as he returned to standing up right. His master had golden eyes that felt like they were not only piercing your soul, but learning all the secrets that it kept as well. Bruce felt naked before this man, feared by tens of thousands, and unknown by countless hundreds of thousands. His master wore his typical green over-cloak, fastened by the snarling wolves' heads of his family's sigil, and looked oddly breathtaking as it was blown to the side by the wind. The man was older, well past his prime, but still could take most men on with a sword and come out unscathed.

As the wind blew through his master's grey hair and side burns Bruce looked to the ground and said, "I am sorry for being late Lord A…" and before he could finish his master raised a hand.

Bruce met his eyes once more, as the old warrior forgivingly said, "It is fine apprentice, and you have trained with me for five years, there is no need for such formalities anymore. As I've told you before and will undoubtedly have to tell you again, you may just call me Rha's or Master. Now walk with me and we shall begin for the day."

_Bruce_: Chapter 2

He remembered everyone leaving slowly; they had paid their respects, what point was there to staying anymore. Bruce was proud of himself, he had managed to stand still all day without letting a single tear escape him. He could feel his mask crack though, when Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell walked through the doors. The northern lord was a strong man, one of the few truly honorable men left in the kingdom his father had told him. While Bruce's father and Eddard had never been companions on the battlefield, they had spent quite a few nights speaking in front of fires, or hunting in the woods together. His father of course would only accompany Eddard on these trips and not partake since he hated killing anything, but he immensely enjoyed the Lord of Winterfell's company so he would go along simply for that.

His father would often return from these trips and tell Bruce of how Ned (as he called him) would constantly jest about the fact that the rich lord Thomas Wayne would eat anything put before him but suddenly lose his backbone the second a bow and arrow were placed in his hand. Bruce confusedly asked him why Lord Stark would jest in such a way, and his father would smile and reply, "Because Ned believes that if you plan to sentence anyone or anything to die, you should have no qualms being the one to carry it out. So if he goes hunting for deer with his party, he'll damn well make sure he's one of the men to bring a deer home."

Bruce would then ask why his father did not have such a view to which he would reply, "Because son, while we do eat deer, and boar, sometimes even bear at our table, and yes they are being killed for our ability to eat, I don't like taking something's life from it for any reason. Yes someone does our hunting for us, but isn't it the same as war? Generals command men to kill for them and Kings command Kingsguard to die for them. I know that men kill each other out there, but to me, whether they're a beggar, a lord, or a simple doe in the woods, their life is not mine to take. Whether men want to take it or not is up to them, and it may even be naïve on my own conscious' part, but it will not be me doing the killing. That is why we don't have an executioner here Bruce, because I'll never sentence a man to die."

Those talks Bruce had with his father seemed like a dream as the rugged looking Warden of the North approached the small boy standing alone with nothing but an aging servant left in this world. Ned Stark's jaw was taught, his shoulders wide, his gait slowed and heavy, but his eyes looked like they were turbulent storms of emotion. He slowly walked over to the boy and knelt, and without saying a word took the boy in his arms with a long hug. Bruce couldn't help but feel like it was his father hugging him, as the warmth and strong arms of the northern lord surrounded him and embraced him. Ned's beard bristled against Bruce's neck itching him but Bruce would not dare let go of this man's hug for fear of feeling cold and alone again. After what could have been second, or minutes, Ned Stark pulled back, and looked into the young orphan's eyes while keeping both hands on his shoulders.

The warden of the North spoke slowly, but deliberately, "I'm sorry Bruce, but words cannot express how much sorrow and pain I feel for you. Your father, gods rest him, as one of the few men I felt I could actually trust. We didn't bond over the deaths of other men, or fighting some war for a title. We bonded over him telling me about you, or me telling him how nervous I was to be a father. We bonded as men should, over families and the things we loved, not with steel in our hands. How do you feel son? And don't tell me the line explaining how you're getting by that I'm sure you practiced to look strong today, tell me how you really are," the wise Eddard Stark said with sorrowful eyes and a voice that faltered slightly on the last line.

"Angry.." was all that Bruce could get out before his mask crumbled to pebbles as he broke down crying into Ned's arms.

As Ned hugged and comforted him he quietly said in the boy's ear, "I know son, I know you are, having those you love unjustly ripped away from you when it's not their time is one of the most maddening feelings in this world. Your mind grows as restless as a winter storm beyond the Wall, you want to do nothing but avenge them, if not them as fallen loved ones then as memories. It becomes the only thing your mind can focus on in a time of such confusion, and both your heart and mind start sinking into a dark place." Lord Eddard's voice was very serious now, but his eyes still showed a great amount of caring, similar to his father's eyes back when he would tell Bruce lessons of life.

Through puffy red eyes and a cracking, quiet voice, Bruce managed to respond with "I just want them back..."

Ned could see the amount of hurting in the young child, and caringly said "I know you do son, and so do I, but we can't spend our lives trying to will the dead back to life. We need to honor their memories, not avenge them. Your father wouldn't want you becoming an angry, young boy who loses himself in hatred or rage. He would want you to keep on living, get married someday, carry on your line and have little sons of your own. You're eight now yes?" Bruce nodded in reply. "Then it's time for you to carry on with your father's legacy, become something great, a symbol of peace and justice like your father was. That is how you will honor his legacy lad, by becoming something more than a man."

From that night on, Bruce would lie awake in bed thinking over everything both Tyrion Lannister and Ned Stark had said to him. If Bruce was to honor what his parents stood for he would have to become something more. He would have to become a symbol; he had to find what would make him strong, and cast a shadow longer than those of other men.

_Bruce_: Chapter 3

He had to face three this time, not that that was out of the ordinary. Rha's would usually pit three or four against Bruce for their warm-up round, Rha's had grown tired of seeing him constantly beat a single opponent or a pair of them with such ease. By the final round Bruce would face more than a dozen foes at once. One time Bruce had been uncharacteristically arrogant at the start of his third year here, and told his master that he may as well fight them with one hand tied behind his back. Not only did Rha's give him his wish, but gave his underlings cast-iron knuckle rings to wear to send the lesson home further. Bruce had managed to make it to the sixth round without a foe landing a blow, but rounds seven through ten proved to be rather painful. It had already been almost two years since then, but Bruce still had two scars on his shoulder to remind him of the dangers of arrogance.

Some days they would fight with wooden staffs, others they would fight with knives, the curved blades of the Dothraki, straight edged blades with queerly small hilts from the Far East near the Jade Sea, or some days they would even practice with dual handed weapons such as scythes, daggers, and other smaller weapons. They rarely trained with the straight swords of Westoros as Lord Al Ghul found them incredibly unwieldy and thought of the knights of the seven kingdoms as fools trouncing around with such ungainly armor. Most days however they used nothing but their fists, since the master believed that even the most skilled unarmed opponent could disarm and defeat any warrior whether it was an armor-clad knight or Dothraki Khal.

After the morning sparring practices, most days would be followed by learning one of the secret arts of the East, such as disappearing into the shadows, or of tactics used by ancient and great warlords. This was in hopes of understanding how both the common and great generals and warriors fought, and how they must learn to fight differently. Rha's believed that any man with a keen knowledge of strategy and leadership could make men march into battle by the thousands to be slaughtered in the name of a king they would never meet. It would take a different type of man entirely to make even armies of thousands afraid to fight their few hundred. "Your common soldier fights for either wealth, power, or in the name of some ruler they think serves them best, either way they are all simple minded fools. Men who can inspire fear, but not rule with it, those are the men that change the world," the master told them one day when they were learning of Aegon Targaryen, the king that rode dragons.

Bruce had never learned much about dragons, just the basic knowledge that they breathed fire and had been gone from the world for centuries. But he had to respect a man that could ride such a terrorizing beast and strike fear into his enemies in a way that no man could. He often wondered if he would be able to do that, make enemies fear him in ways they would not fear even the most intimidating of leaders like the Mad King or Tywin Lannister. He had no dragons like Aegon, nor legions of men like Tywin, nor the power and ferocity of Mad King Aerys. How could Bruce hope to make the corrupt of not only the City of Gotham but of other places riddled with crime such as King's Landing or Casterly Rock fear him if he had nothing to inspire fear?

Bruce knew how to fight in more styles than Robert Baratheon had been in whores, he could speak the languages of the seven kingdoms, of the free cities, Dothraki, and countless others of regions most might not have even heard of. He knew how to appear and disappear into the darkness as if he were simply a nightmare. He had learned to balance upon nothing but a simple rope on his hands and feet from the rope dancers of Pentos who could walk upon a taught rope hundreds of feet in the air as if it were solid ground. He studied how to take the roots of certain flowers and herbs from across the different lands to make different poisons, lethal and nonlethal, that made men fall asleep, or begin attacking their comrades, or even walk in their sleep. He learned to throw small, metal stars and blades and hit the center of a target without fail from traveling sell swords from the Far East. Bruce was taught how to scale a castle wall with nothing but his hands and feet from some odd, rugged looking, thin warriors from the wilds of the seven kingdoms in the city of Qarth. He even picked up tricks such as pick-pocketing, sailing, and bartering from various merchants and sailors that weighed anchor in the ports of Qarth and Pentos. He also learned how to track any man or beast from hunters and slavers around Slavers Bay using blood, tracks, or other less pleasant means. Bruce knew all of this, things that individually could make any single man he came up against afraid to face him, but not enough to make leagues of men fear him.

Sometimes he wondered on the terrible nights when sleep not only evaded him but seemed to torment him, if this had all been for naught. Had he come this far and learned this much to only find that he missed the most important piece of the puzzle of his new life's direction? The old Bruce was gone, the boy that stood as still as the Wall as his parents were laid to rest before him had been buried that day with them. The Bruce that he saw whenever he looked into his reflection, the one with more than anger in his eyes but fires of determination and will, that was the Bruce that would return to Gotham. Some nights he wondered about that as well, whether Alfred would accept the new Bruce like he did the frightened boy? Or would he not like what he saw and leave Bruce, making him truly alone.

Bruce was only nine when he had left Gotham behind, leaving the running of the city to Alfred until he had returned. Many lordlings surrounding the city had tried to argue their right to ruling the city, but so long as Bruce was the last living Wayne with no other kin he could appoint anyone he wanted to be his Regent during his absence. Bruce trusted no one more than Alfred Pennyworth of Dorne. He had served in some battles both grand and small in scale, learned under Maesters for healing and remedying illness and injuries, and was very knowledgeable in literary works and old tales.

Bruce's father had often instructed him to teach Bruce of ancient stories and tales of heroes and battles. Bruce had never really cared for them but how Alfred spoke of them turned them from boring old tales into fantastical epics that Bruce would want to hear on the days of constant rain when his father would not let him go outside. He often missed Alfred greatly, sometimes more so than his parents just because Alfred was still there waiting for him when he returned home. Then Bruce would be the one to regal Alfred with wonderful and fantastical stories for once.


	2. Prologue Chapter 4-6

**PROLOGUE**

_Bruce_: Chapter 4

"You will have to do it someday Bruce, you cannot avoid it forever," Rha's told him one day as they walked along the lake after sparring. The days where Rha's entered the training ring were the most interesting but also the most dangerous, as Rha's did not hold back like his underlings would. Rha's would always fight to kill, and had on several occasions over Bruce's five years here. Bruce would never come away unscathed from his training sessions with the master, but he would usually receive a compliment such as "Well fought _bat_" or "I suppose you are one of the least useless fools here." They were never respectful compliments when given in front of the other brothers of the League of Shadows, but it was on these walks with the master that Bruce received Lord Al Ghul's honest opinions.

"You have been here for more than five years, and have yet to make a kill. Even of the newest recruits, Darros and Karchken have killed others despite them being accidental. To be one of the League of Shadows you must be able to kill when the time calls. You must be able to do what is necessary," his master told him sternly but not commandingly. Rha's had not strictly commanded Bruce to do anything since partway through his second year when he defeated Rha's second in command, Ubu, in sword combat.

"I do not kill yet because I have not found a time that has called for it master. I have learned and seen many things in my years here with you, but have yet to find a man that was deserving of death. Darros is an arrogant fool and Karchken killed that man because he tripped into his sword. These are not kills with honor or glory, they are men swinging swords about as if they were children with sticks. If I kill it will be because there is no other choice, and only then," Bruce said with determination. Before he could turn to see the look on his master's face, Rha's Al Ghul erupted into light laughter, a very rare sight for even those that have been with him for decades.

"Ah young apprentice, your sincerity and bluntness is something I wish I had an unlimited amount of from those under me. Every day I must listen to constant attempts at trying to please me or to get on my better side, I grow tired of it. Not only are Darros and Karchken fools but they are no better fit to lead men than I am to swim across the Narrow Sea. I would trade two hundred of them for one of you any day. Perhaps I should refrain from calling you Bruce from this moment on, as that is not a name deserving of your skill. Your insight into men is something many of these oafs sorely lack. Perhaps I should title you _the Shadow_ from now on, since shadows are everywhere yet nowhere, see and hear everything, but are never out rightly seen, and can lead to the downfall of man if they are not kept an eye on. Yes, I feel this name suits you well for the man I've seen you become," the master said with a slight snicker before pausing to look out at the lake. Bruce was confused; he had never seen his master laugh more than at his trainees' humorous failures, but here the powerful Rha's Al Ghul was laughing with Bruce, and bestowing a new title upon him.

His master's face slowly grew more serious, as the corners of his face lowered from the upward turn of a smile to the slim and pursed lines of his usual unemotional visage. "Well Shadow, use those detecting skills of yours, and tell me what I am thinking."

Bruce's eyes widened slightly at the complete shock he felt from being asked such a question from his master. "I uhh...I am not sure master.." Bruce replied slowly.

Rha's let out another small chuckle, "The great and fearsome Shadow has nothing to say to his master for once! Well this is a strange day." His face returned to its previous serious nature before he continued, "My time is growing nearer Shadow, before long I will join my beautiful wife and your parents in the eternal sleep. And I need to know I am leaving my League of Shadows in the hands of a capable and strong man. Not someone of weak ideals and a spine made of sand. You should be the one to lead these men when I am gone. I am asking you to not return to your already dying city of Gotham leagues away, stay here and raise an army that has the power to cripple entire countries if directed to. There is nothing for you there Shadow, I promise you that. Here there is opportunity, respect, and a life of certainty and comfort that the tumultuous seven kingdoms could never give you."

Bruce still had his mouth gaped open, unsure of how to respond to such a gracious offer, but had no chance to respond before Rha's smiled and said, "You need not answer now. You have until the moment I am on my deathbed to give me your reply if we are going to speak reasonably. But I would hope you would not wait until that moment Shadow, for I would like some peace of mind as I slowly let death take me. But I have spoken enough, I must go inside and meet with Ryho, if you would be so kind to wait here, I should not be long." Bruce blinked and looked around to his surroundings, not realizing they had walked a quarter of the way around the lake already and stood next to the League's barracks.

"Yes of course master..." was all he could manage to get out from between his lips before Rha's strode away from him, not particularly waiting for a response. Rha's Al Ghul was the type of man to wait for no other man.

"You can come out from behind there now," Bruce said to the tree twenty paces to his left, as if the tree could hear him. "Damn, now even the so called '_Shadow_' can hear me coming up on him, however will I be able to kill you?" a feminine voice from behind the tree replied. Bruce smiled and said back, "While I sleep." The woman emerged from behind the thick brown base of the tree and said with a smile on her beautiful thin lips, "There's small chance of that from what I hear, even among the newest of recruits to the cause it is known that the _Bat from Westoros _rarely sleeps."

Talia was a woman whose beauty was only bested by her deadly cunning. She had long brown hair that usually covered the left side of her face and eyes as light and blue as the sky above the plains the Dothraki road through. Her skin was a fair light brown, and she usually was dressed in a leather vest with satin sleeveless tunic underneath. She always carried a short sword and some throwing knives on her, although only the sword was usually visible. She could best any man in the sparring rings, whether with sword, dagger, staff, or nothing but her smooth as silk hands. Bruce had been the first in years to actually defeat her in hand to hand combat. An experience she repaid in kind two weeks later when they next sparred and she left him with an arm pulled from its socket and a fractured shin. Bruce had learned to fight her to a tie from that point forward, but some of the men had not been so lucky. A new recruit had once tried drunkenly groping her last year on his first night here, and was found dead with no visible wounds the next morning.

"So am I the _Bat of Westoros_? Or the Shadow of man as your father would lead men to believe?" Bruce replied with a coy smile across his lips.

"I am not sure, you are as weak and irritating as a bat, but you are also as harmless and afraid as a shadow. Although, there is another title for you as of late I've heard," she said with a playful tone as she approached Bruce.

"Oh? And what would that be my lady?" he said playing this game that they had both come to love. She looked at him with a smirk that looked equal parts playful and equal parts deadly, before saying "I do not remember, perhaps you could shed some light on it, My Beloved."

They leaned in to kiss each other as they often did this past year when they had moments alone together. The moment was perfect, and Bruce could not tell whether the kiss lasted seconds or hours. The wind lightly blowing over them as they stood next to the pure blue-hued lake that came with the afternoon sun and the trees rattled their leaves above them. It made for a moment that seemed out of one of Alfred's stories. Perhaps Rha's Al Ghul was right, Bruce had so much here, what was really waiting for him in Gotham but a dark life of solitude? Bruce would not get to ask for Talia's opinion on the matter though, as their kiss came to an abrupt end.

"So Shadow, I see you have found our shadow that has been following us this afternoon. I'm glad to see your many years of training have taught you to fight back so _swiftly_ and _decisively_," Rha's Al Ghul said with a wry smile less than two feet from where they were embraced. The two lovers awkwardly but quickly separated much to the enjoyment of Rha's Al Ghul which was clearly shown on the humored expression on his face. Bruce had forgotten how quiet the man could be even for a soul his age.

"I uh… I am sorry master we did not hear you coming," Bruce tried to hide the slowly rising redness in his cheeks. "It is fine apprentice; my daughter is a temptation few men can turn away from. How has your day been thus far daughter? I'm sure you've no doubt found joy in overhearing our, what was meant to be private, conversation?" Rha's asked of his daughter, Talia Al Ghul.

"Oh father don't play the fool, you knew I was there the entire time. You only do not scold me because I've been able to beat anyone who has tried since my twelfth name day. And My Beloved is the best choice to lead these men once you sadly pass from this world," Talia said as if she had been rehearsing it the whole time she had been tailing them.

"Ah yes, my always supportive daughter," Rha's said with a thin air of sarcasm. "Now tell me Shadow, has my daughter helped convince you to stay any more than my promises of power, purpose, and comfort have?"

Bruce looked from his love to his master and said "She certainly has not hurt my decision." Rha's laughed lightly and said, "Then perhaps she has finally made a good decision in her life, as I hope you are to do soon as well."

_Bruce_: Chapter 5

Bruce tossed and turned in his bed, the sheet that was on him was pushed off the bed onto the floor hours ago. Cold sweat covered his brow and chest, as his eyes seemed to wince in pain despite his body being unharmed. The occasional groan or shuddering moan escaped his throat as he restlessly turned in bed.

He was sitting in a playhouse, watching a performance of one of the stories Alfred had told him about before bed. His father was sitting to his left wearing his best black doublet with gold trim, the bat of Wayne on his breast. His mother sat on the other side in a beautiful dark dress with a stunning necklace of white pearls sitting around her neck. Bruce had not cared for these sorts of extravagant events, and often wished he was back home sitting by the fire or playing knight with Alfred. Bruce could not help letting his mind wander and his eyes glaze over as he turned his sights inwards to his imagination. His father would always notice right away and nudge Bruce's shoulder to stir him back to reality saying that while many of these events were boring, they uplifted peoples' spirits, gave them something to laugh and smile at. So even if Bruce would rather be elsewhere, the people of Gotham needed things to be happy about in times as dark as these.

Bruce did not know much about what happened outside of Gotham, but he was aware that the current king, a Targaryen, had gone mad and was acting more violent and unpredictable by the day. His father would not tell him everything, just that he was doing very evil things and many people suffered for it. Bruce always thought his father should have been king. Thomas Wayne was many things, but violent and unjust he was not. His father would be able to keep the peace, make the Lannister's, Stark's, Tully's, all of them happy and would actually help people.

Even now his father would often walk through the city streets among the people of the city. He would make small talk with the bakers, jest with the blacksmiths, and every day would buy flowers for his wife from traveling street merchants from all over the seven kingdoms. He would not sit atop the Iron Throne and think of himself as better than other men, knowing his father he would rarely sit in the cursed chair to begin with.

Bruce was pulled from his thoughts back to the play as the actors began screaming, for the monster had just walked out onto the stage. The hero stood sword in hand, prepared to fight the beast or die, but Bruce could only look at him as a foolish actor. Any real man would have run scared at the sight of a monster, not stayed to fight for some sense of honor. He wondered what he would do if a monster came for him in the night, and he only had a sword to defend himself with. The thought scared Bruce, and the longer he looked at the monster as it lurked around the stage the more fear overtook him. Then, ropes with cloth bats fell from the rafters, twirling and fluttering as they dangled above the stage. Bruce's fear continued to take hold of him, as cold sweat started to lightly spot his forehead. Bruce had always been a scared child, never wanting to go far from his family's castle's walls without at least Alfred there. But even he was confused as to how violently fear was taking him over, but fear was irrational after all. It made Bruce restless in his seat. He wanted to get as far away from the monster and bats and stage as quickly as possible.

Bruce's father was the first to notice his son's change in demeanor, seeing his son's eyes wide and white with fear while fidgeting in his seat. His mother took notice a few seconds later and they met each other's eyes and with a quick look of parental understanding knew they must go.

"Hey Bruce how about we go outside for a bit? It gets so stingy in these play halls sometimes and I could use some nice cold air huh?" Thomas Wayne said with all of the understanding in the world. Bruce nodded, secretly overjoyed and relieved that he would be getting his wish of leaving but trying not to let his father see that. They stood together and made their way into and up the aisle towards the back of the theater. His father's personal guards tried to follow before Thomas said it was unnecessary, but two defiantly followed them anyways.

Once outside in the alley behind the theater, the guards stood by the door with their hands rested on the pommels of their swords as the Wayne's tended to their only son. Bruce had not remembered a time when the cold night air felt this good in his lungs. He took slow, deliberate but most of all deep breaths, as Thomas kept a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Ah now that feels better doesn't it Bruce? Those damn play theaters get used so infrequently that you can almost smell the dust that's built up over the months. Sorry dear I just needed a second, we can go back in in a minute," Bruce's father said unconvincingly trying to take the blame for being the one who wanted to leave the theater. Bruce looked up at his father and met his gaze, suddenly feeling stronger than even Lord Tywin Lannister must feel. All of that changed in an instant though, as Bruce heard footsteps behind him.

There were three of them, all wearing black cloaks with no trim or sigil or any hint of color on them, just eternal darkness. Bruce felt the cold shudder of fear trickle down his spine as he gazed at the strangers. The guards left their posts by the door and walked briskly to the Wayne's side.

"Halt. State your name and purpose here or we will be forced to take action," one of the guards said with steely resolve. Bruce did not see anything but the blur of the left-most stranger's arm as he heard the loud metal thud of one of the guard's falling to the ground a few moments later. Bruce turned to the downed guard and saw a crossbow bolt jutting from the man's neck. His father's guard while armored, were only clad lightly in steel. They wore helms, and gauntlets, shoulder guards, chest armor, greaves and thigh guards, but the plating was separated, not guarded underneath by mail or lighter plates. His father said that there was no point in making a man's back break just to follow them around all day. The city had its fair share of crime, but Thomas was a very trusting man. Bruce had wondered if his father had regretted that decision now.

Another bolt flew through the air before anyone had time to react, and took the other guard right through his windpipe. The man gasped and struggled for air as he fell to the ground and life slowly left him. Bruce's father spoke now, asking calmly, "What is it that you want?"

The center cloaked stranger slowly approached as he replied with, "Just the lady's pearls, and all the gold you happen to be carrying on you at the moment m'lord."

Bruce watched his father look at his wife slowly, before saying, "Alright, we'll just handle this calmly and no one else needs to be hurt." The stranger did not agree with this schedule it seemed, as he reached forward and wrapped a hand around his mother's necklace.

The rest was just one giant blur to Bruce, as his father stepped in between his wife and this stranger. There was a flash of silver as his father suddenly gasped for air in pain, a dagger protruding from his stomach. Bruce's mother screamed but only for an instant as the stranger took the knife from his father's belly to his mother's neck as a fountain of red followed the horizontal slash across her fair skin. They both collapsed at once, falling to the ground side-by-side, just as how they walked through life. The stranger ripped the pearls from his mother's neck and gave a lingering look that met Bruce's gaze, cold-hearted steel in one set of eyes and confused, shocked fear in the other. The strangers left the alley in a rush, as quietly as they had come.

Bruce collapsed to his knees beside his father; his mother's spirit had already left her. As Thomas Wayne met eyes with his son for the last time, pain contorting his face, his lips slowly began to tighten to form his final words. As soon as he gazed upon his son, his face calmed, his body stopped struggling, and his lips began to move. "Don't be afraid Bruce…" was the last thing he said to his son. His eyes glazed over and lost their color, before his eyelids slowly closed for the final time. With that, Thomas and Martha Wayne, lord and lady of the City of Gotham, second wealthiest family in the seven kingdoms, and parents to an orphaned son passed from this world, together.

He did not know how long he sat there on his knees, still looking at his father's face afraid to look away. At some point someone discovered the scene, and called for help. Within minutes the City Watch was there, along with many of the guests to the play choosing this scene over the one on stage. They all crowded and tried to beat each other to seeing the sorrowful scene, the bodies and the newly orphaned nobleman's son. Soon the head of the City Watch had arrived; waving people back into the building or street and away from the scene. He slowly approached the boy, knelt down beside him, and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. He took his cloak off and wrapped it around the boy and helped Bruce find the strength to stand and look away from the bodies of his parents. Bruce stared at the man's face for a while; it was the first thing he had looked at since watching his father's life ebb away in front of him.

The man had some wrinkles on his brow and ends of his mouth, but did not look stone and cold. His hair was a soft orange hue, as was the thick mustache that hung above his lips. His eyes reminded him of his father's, caring pools of color, but while his father's had been brown this man's were lakes of dark green. "It will be alright son, we'll find them, and you'll be safe now, I promise," the man said with such an amount of determination and caring that Bruce had almost confused it for his father speaking.

A guardsman approached the leader of the city guard from behind and stated, "Ser Gordon, we have found two men in the alley behind the bakery."

The red-haired man stood from his kneeling beside Bruce, "Dead I'm sure, and no signs of who they were?" The guardsman nodded and said, "Sorry Ser but yes, and stripped bare."

Gordon returned to kneeling to meet eyes with Bruce before slowly saying, "I'm sorry son, but at least we got two of them, how many were there?" Bruce did not answer or even move, just continued looking into Ser Gordon's eyes. "That's alright son, we'll figure that all out later…is there someone who looks after you when your parents aren't around?" To this Bruce's lips found the strength to move, and he quietly whispered "Alfred."

Bruce's eyes opened wide, as he gasped for breath and remembered he was not in Gotham as a boy, but in bed at the palace of Rha's Al Ghul as a man. Bruce slowly laid back down, cold sweat covering his body, his breath slowing, as he remembered that it was just a dream. The thought did not give him very much solace, as it was not so much a dream as it was a nightmare that had the power to haunt him day or night, even leagues away from his home. He turned on his side as he contemplated leaving his bed to continue training despite the camp not needing to wake for another few hours yet, or to try and return to sleep but ultimately fail. Bruce rolled out of bed as his hands and feet caught him before hitting the floor, and began his routine for the day.

_Bruce_: Chapter 6

The mornings were beautiful here, Bruce's favorite time of day. The sky was a shade of grayish-blue as the sun slowly peaked from over the mountain range to the north of the palace grounds. He wondered how many sunrises he had watched rise over the mountains from the terrace of his room over his years here. At the beginning of his third year here Rha's had moved his living arrangements from the barracks of the rest of the trainees here to a guest room in the palace of the master himself. Bruce actually preferred this room to his room in Wayne Castle, preferring the white marble and granite to the dark brick walls of his family's castle. The palace of Al Ghul was a beautiful structure, with the main pillar stretching into the sky surrounded by three smaller towers standing half as tall as the central one. There were no demons or gargoyles standing watch over this palace as they did over Wayne Castle, but guardians in beautiful cloaks with wings sprouting from their back. Bruce had never seen a place so light and beautiful as this in all of his travels.

He heard a rustling from behind him, as Talia approached him wearing nothing but a silk sheet from his bed. She leaned against his back, resting her head on the back of his shoulder.

"Beloved, why do you torment yourself so? Even after a night as tiring as the one we shared last night you still are so restless and unable to close your eyes for more than a few minutes. Is it I that keeps you awake at night?" she asked coyly.

"No, you keep me up later than my thoughts to be sure, but you are not the reason I cannot sleep my love," he replied as he turned to face her. They kissed, and she slid her head down to his chest as he embraced her with his strong arms.

"We spend out nights together half of the week, and yet you seem to still find no peace," she said sounding uncharacteristically concerned.

"Because I'm still missing something, I have you, the skills, the knowledge, everything I thought I would need to start my new life, but I feel like there is something missing still," Bruce said looking out to the forests beside the palace.

A knock at the door disturbed their moment of peace, as Lord Al Ghul had sent for Bruce to meet him at high noon. When Bruce arrived at his master's private study, he found him enthralled in a massive tomb that had uneven page edges and was bound by golden rings. "Come Shadow, sit sit, we have much to discuss," Rha's said without lifting his head or eyes from the text. Bruce sat on the nearest stool to his master as opposed to the comfortable satin chair that Rha's had gestured to. "You will never-endingly defy me it seems apprentice. Now, what do you know of the Targeryens?" he asked Bruce while turning the page.

"Their sigil is a three headed dragon, and the last king of their line went mad and killed hundreds and was responsible for the deaths of many more," Bruce said easily.

"Good, and what of their children?" Rha's responded.

"All of the Targeryens were killed in Westeros, but the two youngest of their bloodline managed to escape, but no one knows to where," Bruce responded once again sure of his answer.

"And that is where you are wrong Shadow," Rha's said, finally looking up from the book to meet Bruce's gaze. "The two dragon hatchlings are in Pentos, in the Free Cities. The boy and his sister, he has taken to calling himself 'The Dragon' my spies tell me. Ha, what foolishness and brazenness comes with childhood. His sister cannot be more than ten years on this earth, her brother a few more. But they live, with some wealthy man named Illyrio, he is no threat, but these children present one," his master said sternly. Bruce waited a moment before replying,

"But they are only children, surely they can do no harm to us or the world?"

"Not yet, but what happens apprentice when you let a dragon grow from its egg for years? It becomes a massive terror that can fly across nations leaving nothing but a wake of fire and destruction in its path. We have men all over the world Shadow, Westoros, the Free cities, even Vaes Dothrak, but we act only when we need to. These self-titled kings and lords of Westoros, Aerys Targaryen, Robert Baratheon, his brother Stannis, Stark, Greyjoy, it matters not to us. They will always kill and fight for power and titles. That is simply how the world turns," Rha's took a drink of wine before continuing.

"But if someone such as these children, if they grow up vengeful, and should decide to burn a whole continent or two in vengeance for their family line? That requires _action_. It is rumored that they plan to wed this girl to a powerful Dothraki Khal when she is of age in hopes of obtaining an army to invade the seven kingdoms," Rha's said before taking another sip.

Bruce interjected before he had finished, "But they are merely men of the horse, they would not cross the sea unless someone built a bridge of earth to bridge the two sides."

"Ah yes, but with promises of a whole new land to pillage, rape, and maraud? A smart Khal with a horde of men dwarfing any single household's army of Westoros, he could be more willing to set sail. That is something we must avoid Shadow, that is more than just killing each other in the name of power or fame. With the strength of a horde even fifty thousand strong the Dothraki would be able to sweep through the seven kingdoms in a matter of months. The castles and strongholds could hold them off well enough, but only until their supplies run out. Meanwhile the villages and towns and countryside would be laid to waste. We must take care of this threat Shadow, and I am choosing you to handle it." Bruce looked surprised even though he shouldn't have since Rha's had just offered him to take over in his place less than two months ago.

"What would you have me do master? _Kill children_?" Bruce replied unsure.

"I am asking you to do what is necessary Shadow, and nothing more. Infiltrate the city, the palace where they sleep. You can order another of my men to take the life of the other dragon, but you must kill the other. This is the moment where you show your dedication to our cause. I understand your dislike of killing mindlessly, I agree in full, killing needlessly makes us no better than the mindless savages that live beyond the Wall of the seven kingdoms. But this is not random killing, this is to save the lives of possibly hundreds of thousands." There was no question or hesitation in Rha's Al Ghul's voice, this was an order, not a request.

"Yes master" was all that Bruce had said. The next morning he had set out for Pentos with the mission of killing children, _may his parents' spirits forgive him._


	3. Prologue Chapter 7-10

**PROLOGUE**

_Bruce_: Chapter 7

Bruce turned to look back at the mountains as they finally left them to ride the rolling plains on their way to Pentos. The palace of Rha's Al Ghul rested in the heart of the mountains north of the Sea of Sighs. He did not know the name of the mountains or if they even had a name, but he had come to know it as the closest thing to home he has had since leaving Gotham close to a decade ago.

It had already been two weeks since they left the palace but they had barely gotten more than two finger-lengths away from their starting point on their map. Now they must cross the grasslands between the mountains they had just left and Dagger Lake to the Northeast, before crossing The Flatlands on the other side of the large body of water. Rha's told them that they should not run into any Khalazars as most of them were out pillaging the Dothraki Sea by this time of year. If they did run into a Khalazar, Bruce was instructed to give them all the gold he carried (more than a Lannister carried in his pockets Rha's had jested) for safe passage. Bruce and his compatriots could take at least a hundred Dothraki easily, but outrunning them would prove very difficult.

They had near another three weeks of travelling before reaching their destination of Pentos. Luckily four men traveled far more quickly than a few dozen. Rha's had sent one of his personal guard, Warkan, a former Dothraki bloodrider who had the sense of humor and conversation of his horse. The other two had come in Bruce's second year at the palace, brothers Dansir and Rayne. Bruce had trained with both of them extensively and knew how to take each of them down rather swiftly. Rayne was the jester while Dansir was the bragger, Rayne would beat an enemy and humiliate him while Dansir would beat his foe and tell him why he stood no chance to begin with. Rayne was smaller and sleeker but much quicker while Dansir was well-built with the strength of a bear. He was glad to have both of them along for the journey, they proved far more entertaining than Warkan and Bruce could use any distraction he could get.

Bruce had more trouble sleeping on the road then he did in his palace bed, but not for the reasons most men would have. He grappled with trying to accept his master's order of slaying innocent children. Bruce had never met this girl or her brother, or their parents. Mad King Aerys had done many horrible things, killing Ned Stark's brother and father, raped his sister, and killed many, many more. But that did not mean the children had to pay for the sins of the father. According to the master's reports, she was actually rather sweet and timid. Bruce had heard this Viserys on the other hand was an arrogant fool, but that still did not mean he needed to die for foolish, strong headedness. Bruce would have much to think over in the remaining weeks before reaching Pentos, and he hoped that by the time he reached it he would have more clarity on what he must do. His only option was to slay both the young dragons, or not return and fear his master's wrath and army finding him while he slept.

One night while sleeping under the stars on the plains, Bruce could not help but wonder what Alfred was doing. If he was looking up at the same stars, if he was living happily and comfortably in Bruce's absence, or if he was still grieving after all this time, missing every member of the family he had come to not only serve but love. Bruce even wondered what Ser Gordon, the head of the city guard when he left, was doing at this moment. Was he sleeping with his family all warm in their beds, or was he patrolling the streets with his men as the dutiful leader he seemed to be.

After many more nights of restless sleep and confused pondering, they had finally reached Pentos. The city was almost directly across the Narrow Sea from King's Landing, where King Robert doubtlessly sat under some whore last night as opposed to atop his Iron Throne. The free cities were unique in that no man claimed leadership of them, no lords or kings, just men trying to earn a living. Granted some were more honest in their methods than others. This Magister Illyrio that had both the young dragons in his stead was supposedly a bit of both. He had many honest merchants in his employ, but also brought in a great quantity of gold from other areas that Bruce had not bothered to read into. That sort of information was only useful for blackmailing and twisting arms to get what they wanted, but this was not a matter they could pay people off to solve. The deaths had to be swift, in the night, and most of all secret. If the Magistrate of the house had even been privy to it there was nothing but fear to stop him from talking. Even if they silenced him, Illyrio would have doubtlessly told his contacts wherever they lie, spreading the word. Rha's Al Ghul would not have that.

This left Bruce and Warkan to infiltrating the manor as servants, waiting until they could get close to the children at night, and do their evil work. Bruce still could not fully stomach the plan, and now that they were here he had little time left to attempt to. Bruce may not have a choice, and would have to put the girl to his blade with a stomach as unruly as a sea storm.

Once inside the gates of the city, they met with the League of Shadows brother stationed in Pentos, Okorro. Okorro was a big man, but aging as his hair and beard had bright gray streaks among the black. As they rode with him, the large, tanned man filled Bruce and his companions in on his observations.

"This Illyrio, he is a cautious man, he knows his dragons are precious treasures and that any man would be willing to slit their throats without care for the right price. He has tripled the guard of his palace, the girl is kept in the northern hall, the boy prefers the main chamber in the center of the estate. His brashness will cost him dearly my brothers," he said in the dialect of the Free Cities with a smile across his face. Bruce was left to wonder if he was the only one still uncertain if killing children to potentially save thousands was really a more noble cause than killing another man for a crown to rule those thousands.

_Bruce_: Chapter 8

The day after they arrived Bruce and Warkan were accepted as servants in Illyrio's palace. They started out doing menial tasks such as cutting vegetables or fetching water for the guards, but within three weeks they were moved up to being servants of Illyrio himself. They brought him food, drink, or news of the city, but were not permitted to see the children, until today. They left Okorro's hideout together wearing plain white tunics with golden trim and brown sandals, as was common of servants in Pentos.

They stood in the main courtyard for half an hour before the main doors finally opened and Illyrio led the children in behind him, and behind them followed eight fully armored guards. It would have been easy to take them now, but they were ordered to make the kills in the dead of night and so they waited. Bruce's stomach was in knots, and those knots seemed only to tighten more painfully once he laid eyes on the Targaryen girl. She had long straight hair as white as the snow that fell in the middle of winter in Gotham. She was a small creature, but certainly had a beauty about her that was rarely seen in girls so young. She would grow into a breath-taking woman someday, _or would have_ Bruce corrected himself. Her eyes were the worst part for Bruce to stomach. If Rha's Al Ghul's eyes were soul piercing, her's were soul absorbing. Her eyes were such a light shade of blue that Bruce had never seen before, even lighter than Talia's. Bruce was awestruck and frozen staring into her eyes, feeling his soul become undone before her. Illyrio snapped him out of it by calmly saying, "Servants should not meet eyes with those above them."

Bruce quickly apologized and looked down, "I am sorry ser, it will not happen again."

The older Targaryen cut in arrogantly saying, "Good, let us hope it doesn't peasant. I am to be King some day and will not have servants acting as my equals then nor now." Viserys Targaryen had a boyish arrogance in his gait, and a constant smirk upon his face. He held his head high and looked down on everyone around him despite being shorter than Bruce, Illyrio, and most of the men around him. _He truly does have the mindset it took to be a king_ Bruce thought. His hair was as white as his sister's, and he dressed himself in green robes with a green tunic with the three headed dragon of his house on his breast in black.

Illyrio then said, "The white servant from Westoros shall tend to Lady Daenerys today, the other will care to all of my Lord Viserys' whims. Have a good day children I have a meeting that requires my attention."

With that the Magister turned and left as Viserys suddenly commanded, "Come servant, you shall scrub my feet before we go on a tour of the marketplace." Warkan looked quickly at Bruce, with a level of anger and spite that Bruce could tell meant the former Dothraki wanted to do nothing but slit the boy's throat right then and there. Bruce gave a small shake of his head as Warkan grunted angrily and followed the young prince out the gate.

"Look me in the eyes again servant, if you would," he suddenly heard in a soft feminine voice as he watched the prince and his companion leave. Bruce turned to meet the young girl's gaze, and once again stared into those pools of light blue warmth.

"As you wish my Lady," Bruce said trying to sound meek and submissive. They stared at each other for a few minutes, before the young dragon finally said, "Your eyes, they seem to have a lot of turmoil in them." Bruce was shocked that a girl of such a young age could have such insight into his soul, maybe her eyes really did absorb his soul.

"I am unsure of what you mean my Lady," Bruce said once again trying to sound subservient.

"Have you lost your parents too?" she asked simply. Bruce's words seemed to catch in his throat, had this girl really seen his pain through his eyes? _Am I this see-through to such small, fragile child?_ Or perhaps orphans had some form of unspoken bond with each other, he wasn't sure.

Bruce decided he could do nothing but tell the truth, "Yes my lady, many years ago."

"How did they die?" she asked with the innocence of a child in her eyes but the sincerity of an adult in her voice. "They were killed while being robbed," Bruce replied solemnly.

"And you saw it happen?" Bruce nodded, not daring to look away from her gaze. "I did not know my parents truly, my mother died bringing me into this world, my father…was killed a great distance from me I'm told. I do not really remember. What is your name?" she asked genuinely.

Bruce hesitated before replying with, "Thomas my lady, from King's Landing."

"Do you think they see us Thomas? Do you think they watch over us, see us grow, feel the pain we feel?" she asked hoping for a particular answer, but Bruce was not sure what it was.

"No, I'm afraid I don't believe they know our pain my lady, but I like to think they can see us, what we do, who we become," _and forgive us if we ever falter on the paths they intended for us,_ he silently added to himself.

Daenerys seemed pleased with this answer, "Good, I would not want my mother feeling the pain I feel now, she deserves to lay in peace. I'm not sure what kind of lady I am to become though Thomas, or if my mother would be proud of me. Do you think your parents' ghosts are pleased with who you've become?" Her questions, as simple in phrasing as they were, pierced Bruce's core deeply. He felt a nervous shudder down his spine he had not felt since he was first laid before Rha's Al Ghul more than five years ago.

"I am not sure, but I hope they understand that sometimes to help the light, we must live in the dark. I hope they have the strength to forgive me for any wrongs I have done on my path to who I will become," he said, half trying to convince himself.

Daenerys smiled, "I'm sure they will good ser, most parents find a way to forgive I imagine, even if they aren't here to scold us and teach us lessons when we do wrong." _This girl is wise beyond her years_, would his parents' spirits be able to forgive him for killing this poor girl tonight? He was afraid of the answer. He was afraid of what he must do, this girl did not seem to have an ounce of ill will or evil in her, was death truly the only possible course of action? The girl stirred him from his thoughts, "Would you like to walk by the bay with me? I find it helps soothe me when I have a restless mind."

"Yes my lady, as you wish," he replied and they left the palace tailed by four guards and walked down to the water's edge.

They walked together all afternoon, speaking of the city, and the young princess telling him about the tales of the dragons her ancestor rode, and then Bruce spent hours telling her some of the stories Alfred had told him as a boy. They parted ways at dusk, and Bruce returned to Okorro's hideout to prepare for his long night. The four of them wore black stained chest plates along with gauntlets with angled blades on their sides. They had black hoods with cloth masks allowing only their eyes to be seen. They each carried ten throwing blades, an Eastern straight sword, and some poison darts along with four ceramic spheres full of powder that would explode into a cloud of smoke when they made contact with the ground.

It was near midnight when they finally made their way to the castle, Dansir and Rayne were to watch the escape route; a wall at the back end of the palace that had crumbled slightly making it easy to climb to those skilled enough. Bruce and Warkan had both pickpocketed keys to the Targaryen's rooms, after learning which guards carried spares over their weeks there. They also learned when guards would change shifts and gave a three minute window that would leave the children defenseless. Illyrio clearly had a lot of confidence in the walls of his palace and in his hundred guards posted outside and roaming the halls.

Once they reached the back wall of the palace, they went their separate ways with nothing but a nod of the head. Bruce found it easy to avoid being seen by the occasional guard walking down the corridor. A few of them were drunk from the looks of their stride, perhaps Illyrio should inspect these men he paid good gold to watch his estate.

After half an hour Bruce had reached Daenerys' door, and waited in the shadows until the guard left his post to go find his replacement. Bruce crept over and slowly opened the door using his confiscated bronze key, and slipped inside sword drawn. The girl lay on her bed sleeping, wrapped up in a beautifully sewn quilt of red and gold. He slowly moved over to the girl before hearing a shout from outside the window and quickly turned to listen closer fearing they had been discovered. By the time he turned back from the window to the girl she was awake and sitting fearfully in her bed clutching her blankets so strongly her knuckles were white. Bruce made the error of looking her in the eyes, and the girl quietly said, "You…but why?"

He had been found out now, and he did not know how the girl recognized him so easily by just his eyes. Bruce did not think they had looked into each other's eyes long enough earlier for him to be recognized. He still dared not to remove his mask, perhaps the girl was merely bluffing and did not know for certain. "Thomas…why?" she asked again.

For the second time today, he decided not to lie to those eyes of hers, "Because sometimes we must do dark things to best serve those in the light."

"But whose light?" the girl said with yet more insight that he did not expect.

The question caught Bruce off guard, "I am merely a shadow in the night young dragon, I would not expect you to understand. But know I am sorry."

"As am I…was any of what you told me today truth?"

Bruce hesitated again, before replying, "Yes, my parents' ghosts watch over me, even through the darkness I must trek."

"Why must you live in the darkness though? I'm sure your parents would want you to live in the light. Be a man of honor, not a child-killer," Daenerys said, never looking away from his eyes.

"My path was chosen for me sweet girl, I must follow orders," Bruce replied dutifully, but with his heart and stomach faltering.

"Then do as you must, but doing it under someone else's command makes you no better than the men who rebelled against my family in the seven kingdoms. They rose up under the Usurper's orders and were left with a shattered and broken land, and after this night, you will only be left with broken honor and a shattered life," she said, her words cutting deeper than any sword Bruce had ever been wounded by. Her views of Westoros were clearly but deservedly biased, but her message still rung true.

"I am sorry my Lady…you…are right. I could never come to terms with this mission, I thought being here in the moment might have given me the steel stomach needed to complete it, but now I see maybe it is not a feeling I can overcome. It's one I must use as a rule, to never kill…" Bruce said realizing all of this himself.

"You are forgiven ser, but I would like to know your true name, not to tell anyone, but so that I can pray to the gods for your parents to know what kind of man their son had become," she said in a sincere voice that Bruce was not accustomed to with most he met in life.

"My name is Bruce Wayne, son of Thomas and Martha Wayne of Gotham City of the seven kingdoms. I serve no king, I am no lord, and I am purposeless, and honor-less as well it seems..." he told the girl listening with rapt attention.

"You are wrong Bruce Wayne, your honor and purpose are intact, just shrouded in the cape of darkness that you've wrapped yourself in," the young dragon said with Bruce staring at her wide-eyed. He was interrupted by shouts from outside the door. "My lady! Are you alright? There has been a breach in the palace walls!" some guard shouted fumbling with the door handle. Bruce was unsure if Warkan had succeeded in his mission or not, but Bruce could not carry out his.

Guards burst through the door, as Bruce looked to the girl for one last time quietly saying, "Thank you my lady, know if you ever come to Westoros, the shadow of the bat will look over you." He threw one of his smoke bombs to the ground and immediately was hidden in a cloud of thick, gray smoke. By the time the guards had sifted through the smoke, Bruce had slipped out the window and down onto the grass.

"Thank you, shadow of the night…my dark knight…" Daenerys quietly whispered to herself.

Bruce sprinted across the lawn of the Palace, not running into any opposition but three guards which he quickly subdued. He climbed up the faulty wall and dropped to the other side and into the middle of a sword fight. Rayne and Dansir were in the midst of fending off a dozen guards armed with spears and swords. "Our brother failed, the prince still lives!" Rayne shouted as he parried one of the guards and drove his sword through the man's neck.

"We must leave as quickly as possible," Bruce stated as he began fighting their way through the guards and disappeared in another cloud of smoke.

They found their horses and mounted them, immediately setting them to a sprint as they fled the city before the guards could stop them. Archers began to dot the rooftops and let arrows fly down upon them, missing due to the three escapers' speed. As they neared the gate, a chance arrow speared Dansir through the throat, another hitting his horse in the flank. The two fell together in a mess of tangled horse and human flesh as Dansir's dead body was crushed by the horse's body falling on top of it. Rayne shouted in pain for losing his brother in both arms and blood, but they both continued to press on into the night and beyond the city walls.

They rode continuously for close to two days, never stopping for more than a few minutes if they stopped at all. Bruce knew it would be a long and difficult ride back. He was not sure which he feared more, the ride back, being caught by the determined city guard, or confronting his master when he returned. After thinking that to himself, Bruce knew without question which he was most afraid of.

_Bruce_: Chapter 9

They had made it as far as Dagger Lake before they had to stop due to Rayne's injury. He had been pierced through the thigh by an arrow when passing through the city gates. At first it was manageable; they treated the wound, wrapped it, and continued on. But now the wound had festered, and the dry fields they had crossed did not have the herbs necessary to make the right mixture to help the pain. Rayne's leg reeked of death and rotting flesh, he could barely sit his horse by the time they stopped, and his eyes fluttered under his half-open eye lids. As Bruce laid his companion down for what he knew was the final time, Rayne grabbed the neck of his tunic with unexpected strength and pulled Bruce close.

"I am sorry for failing you dear brother, and for failing your brother as well," Bruce said solemnly, finding it hard to stare into the dying man's eyes.

"It is not your fault Shadow…Bruce, even I could not stomach the thought of killing a child, but you were strong enough to go against our master's orders. You are a shepherd among sheep brother, and fear not for my blood brother…huh…I shall be joining him soon," Rayne said gasping for breath.

"But that is not what I must tell you. At the palace, before we were dispatched, I overheard the master speaking with his right hand, Ubu, about you, ugh…" Bruce could see he was on his last legs in this life, but the dying man's words slightly alarmed him. "Ubu asked him whether the master planned on telling you 'the truth' before you succeeded him as leader of the League of Shadows. The master said he did not think you could handle the truth of it, that history is only history when it is left behind us. That an orphaned boy with parents killed by thieves would become an angry storm of vengeance if he learned he was an orphaned boy of parents killed by assassins…_cough_, ugh, my time is nearing brother. I know not of what his words meant, but I thought you should know before I pass on to the next world and I become of no use to anyone," he said while his words grew quieter.

"Rha's…he…no, that cannot be…" Bruce said suddenly as confused and hurt as he had been when he first watched his parents struck down.

"I am sorry brother, I did not mean to make you question your faith or path in life, merely shed light on the darkness, but I must go now…_cough_, my brother waits for me, I shall see you again Shadow, but not yet…not…yet…" and with that Rayne's hand fell from Bruce's collar, as he passed on to the next life.

Bruce was confused, hurt, scared, had his whole life, all of this training been based off a manipulative lie from the start? Bruce was no longer afraid of returning to his master a failure, but angry. He would return as the Shadow that men would learn to fear, that his master would learn to fear, that would avenge his parents' memories and make him a symbol for something greater, _as a wise man once told me_.

The return home went by far quicker, hours blurred to days, which melded together into weeks. Before Bruce knew it, he was walking up the front steps of the palace of his master as the sun set behind the palace. Some guards tried stopping him on his warpath to his master's study, but Bruce quickly and violently disarmed them. He heard three shoulders pop from their sockets, and two more bones break in two of their legs. He stormed into his master's private study, finding Rha's Al Ghul sitting in a chair as decorated as a throne facing the door, almost as if he had been expecting Bruce.

"How dare you show your face to me in such a fashion after failing me so greatly. It is only out of my respect for you Shadow that I did not kill you before you could so much as dismount your horse…" the master growled before Bruce cut in.

"Did you have my parents killed?" Bruce said determinedly and coldly. Rha's showed an emotion that Bruce had never seen on his face in all his years here, surprise.

"What delusional nonsense do you speak of Shadow? Your parents died many years ago, before I took you in and even more before you left Westoros," Rha's retorted, but his guilt was written all over his face. Bruce could see a liar no matter how well practiced with a great amount of ease, and the unexpectedness of the question had shaken Rha's usually apathetic face and revealed the emotion that lay beneath. Rha's was guilty; Bruce had no doubt in his mind now.

"If you lie to me again Rha's, I will kill you where you sit," Bruce said with such a level of angry sincerity that it made Rha's eyes open wider if only for an instant.

"Now you listen here boy…" Rha's began to threaten before Bruce threw a knife that wedged itself into the master's throne so closely to the old warrior's head that it shaved some ends of his hair off. "You make it sound as if it would be so easy to kill me Shadow…" Rha's said menacingly, finally forgoing his act of innocence.

"So you admit you did it finally?" Bruce returned just as threateningly.

"They were interfering with our work. Their generosity and unwillingness to give up on Gotham was an idealistic fool's errand, and was something that would make our duty harder down the line. Like with the young Targaryen children, sometimes people need to be dealt with before they can cause too many problems," Rha's said with a cold voice Bruce had never heard from him.

"A problem for who I wonder?" Bruce said drawing his sword and then continuing, "What is this plan Rha's?"

"Ah, you do not get those answers Shadow, now all you've earned is an early grave alongside your parents. And when Gotham, King's Landing, and the rest of those cities burn, I will look down upon your grave and smile. I respect your skills Shadow, but you have become far too problematic to be allowed to live," Rha's said rising from his chair and letting his green cloak fall to the ground around him.

Bruce retorted with a wry smirk, "You make it sound as if it would be so easy to kill me Rha's."

The old man drew his sword, a scimitar with a gold hilt encrusted with a snarling wolf's head forged from jade, "You will die for this insolence boy, I have fought and killed far better warriors over the course of my life than you, compared to them you are but a..."

Bruce cut him off with the same wry smile but an increasingly hateful look in his eyes, "a shadow Rha's? Well that is to my benefit then, for shadows strike in the night, without warning, and without mercy!" Bruce shouted as he charged Rha's sword in hand and the sound of steel on steel rung through the room.

They were an even match, each one blocking and parrying, dodging and evading, just as quick as the other. Bruce had never seen the old lord fight with such ferocity and speed. Their clothes were cut, their skin was sliced and bled, but neither backed down. Bruce was cut across the cheek by one of Rha's inward strikes, but within a few seconds Bruce was parrying and shallowly cut Rha's across his thigh. Other men came, swords at the ready, but Rha's shouted at all of them to stand down. The Shadow was his to silence.

Bruce had never fought with such determination; he finally had found his purpose for fighting. He did not fully know Rha's' plan, or what he intended for his city and the others of Westoros, but he could not let this evil man lead his army across the Narrow Sea. But how could he have stopped a whole league of men from completing Rha's' dark task, even if Bruce managed to defeat him. This was a thought that Rha's shared, as he asked after Bruce gave him another shallow cut across his chest, "So tell me Shadow, if you should defeat me, how would you stop my League of Shadows? You surely cannot help to best all one thousand of them with just your sword?" Rha's had a smile of both contempt and pride on his face, thinking he had outsmarted Bruce.

Bruce smiled in return, and said calmly, "Your title for me seems to be more and more fitting with each passing day Rha's. Luckily my mind was not as far gone from rage as a lesser man's would have been. I bought some shells of exploding wildfire off some black market merchants in Ar Noy."

Rha's expression turned ghostly, his eyes filling with a hatred that Bruce's did not even possess. "Shadow you…" Rha's could not finish his sentence, as the jars of wildfire that Bruce had hidden went off in unison.

Last night, Bruce had slipped in with the shells and hid them beneath the barracks and in three different areas under the Palace. They were small canisters, no larger than a loaf of bread, and were easy to carry. Bruce had bought five hundred of them with the gold Rha's had sent him out with. It took many trips to hide them all properly, but the late night guards and patrollers were inattentive fools that Bruce easily slipped by without detection, _he was the Shadow after all_. No men ever went down to the underground levels of the structures unless they were requested to fetch something which was a rare occurrence.

An hour ago Bruce had slipped in again to lay the paths of powder for the fires to follow, a slow burning mixture that was measured out perfectly to run out in about an hour. Bruce had then disappeared back to his camp, to return less than a few minutes later in an angry, brazen show to make Rha's underestimate him, mistaking him for a fool blinded by rage.

Bruce's plan had clearly worked perfectly judging by the completely awe-struck expression on his former master's face. In the distance Bruce and those surrounding him in the room could hear the explosions and screams coming from the barracks lying next to the palace. Within seconds, the room began to shake as the Wildfire in the underground level followed suit. Bruce knew the fire would consume the whole structure, and unfortunately burn any of his master's underlings who could not escape. Bruce knew this meant taking the lives of countless men, but Bruce could not let this evil spread. This was the time that Rha's had spoken of, when there was no other option but death.

He had to thank Daenerys Targaryen for opening his eyes to this revelation. Killing a child, while carrying the slight chance of maybe saving countless lives someday was not a situation where there was no other paths to take. Rha's however, Bruce could see it in his eyes that he intended to reduce the world to ashes if that was what the demon thought was best for the world. Bruce was aware of and accepted the hypocrisy of this, but like his father he decided to live with his hypocrisy. He would rather live the rest of his life with this burden weighing on his conscience than risk letting the world suffer at the hands of this crazed tyrant hidden in the shadows.

Rha's charged at Bruce in an enraged fury of flashing steel as Bruce deflected as best he could. Rha's changed his strategy in an instant as he ducked inside Bruce's defenses and tackled him through the window and out into the night. The study was only on the second story but the impact still hurt Bruce's back as they crashed into the large marble pool below. Bruce struggled for air as he frantically swam to the water's surface, feeling small bits of glass tear and pierce the muscles in his back and shoulders as he struggled. He finally broke the surface of the water, gasping for air as he struggled his way to the side of the pool. As he pulled himself up the marble steps he knew he could not lay and rest as much as his body ached, he needed to stand and finish his mission.

Bruce struggled to his feet, and turned to see the palace up in flames, green fire dancing outside almost every window. He could feel the heat from the never-ending wildfire even thirty feet from the building. He saw a few men diving or stumbling out of the windows engulfed in flames, Bruce's soul would be heavy with each of them for the rest of his life.

"Shadow! It is time for your soul to burn as my home does!" Rha's shouted in an enraged voice from the other side of the pool. Bruce suddenly realized he had left his sword in the water, now unarmed against an opponent angrily stepping closer. Bruce had only one course of action, and put all of his energy into one final charge on Rha's. Rha's waited until the last moment to jab the point of his blade forward, just as Bruce anticipated he would do. Bruce waited until a moment after the muscles in Rha's' arms tensed to strike forward, to begin dodging to the right. As his former master's arm extended, Bruce wrapped his hands around his foe's wrist and forearm. Bruce disarmed him and before Rha's could move to try a second attack, Bruce planted the point of the blade in the center of the demon's chest.

Rha's collapsed to the ground, gasping for air and cursing Bruce, "We were supposed to be better men Bruce…above the titles and glory. We were going to liberate this world together! And now you have spit in my face, destroyed my home, and killed me. It seems you are finally prepared to do what is necessary." Bruce stood over him, choosing his words carefully, "Killing my parents, killing Daenerys Targaryen, who are we to choose who lives and who dies and what is best for the world?"

"Ha…but is that not what you are doing right now Shadow? You are deciding this world is better off without me or my League, and have taken it upon yourself to see your sentence carried out…" Rha's' eyes were shuttering slightly and his voice quieted.

"I know I am living with a hypocrisy, but I would rather live the rest of my days with this guilt on my conscience than watch you burn the world to nothingness in your quest to perfect the world in your eyes," Bruce replied calmly.

"Ha ha...very well Shadow, then I hope you enjoy the fire, for no matter if I am here to watch it or not, the fire will rise. This world will burn, whether by the flame of a dragon, the hands of men, or if the dreaded Others return for the endless winter. Mankind had set its course Bruce, I needed to only direct the flames…_cough_, the words of my house Bruce are these. 'For man to become immortal, one must die while still alive, _ha…ha ha_…" and with those final words Rha's died with a small smile on his face, as if he had been the one that won this night.

Bruce suddenly felt incredibly heavy, not only his body from the wounds he sustained in the fight, but his soul seemed to become more burdened from the souls he had taken tonight. His soul only seemed to get heavier when he heard a familiar voice from behind him, "Beloved…how could you?"

Bruce turned to face Talia, tears in her eyes and a dagger clenched in her fist. "I am sorry Talia, but there was no other way…he was going to kill countless dozens of thousands of people and maybe more! I could not let a demon such as him live."

"Beloved, I am going to let you leave this place alive only for the love we shared. Do not return to this place, or you will be slain where you stand. The demon's head will not die this day, we will rise again," she said with a coldness that mirrored her father's.

"I know Talia…and I will be there to stop you when you do…" and with that Bruce turned and limped away.

Talia looked up to her father's burning palace, consumed by the jade demon of the cursed pyromancer's fire. Then to the barracks which was even more engulfed in the green flames. Then she turned out to the lake, which reflected a light green as if the moon itself were covered in the dancing flames of the wildfire. Talia then returned her head back to her Beloved as he slowly and painfully staggered away from her. Her eyes continued to run with tears as she placed a hand on her stomach.

She was going to tell him today when she heard he had returned, but it had been too late. She continued to caress her belly while quietly saying, "It will be alright my son, you will grow to have your grandfather's cunning and your father's strength. You will do great things, my brave little Damian…"

_Bruce_: Chapter 10

"Bruce, Bruce it's time to wake up. Oh come now you silly boy, are you my son or a bear hibernating for the winter?" Bruce's eye lids lifted as he stared straight up at the ceiling. He hardly remembered his mother's voice anymore, or what his father smelled like, but in his dreams it would all come back to him in an instant as if they had never left. _Today is the day_, Bruce reminded himself. It had already been near three years since he left the palace of Rha's Al Ghul burning into the night and the woman he had come to love behind him.

He had pushed his body to such extremes fighting the pain that he barely made it to the city of Mantarys at the base of the river flowing from the mountains. He collapsed just outside the city gates and was found and taken in by a local mystic healer. Bruce had sustained many shallow cuts and bruises, but the glass shards in his back and a deep cut across his chest had grown even more perilous to his life. After a fortnight of fevered sleep, Bruce finally stirred from his haunted dreams. He spent the next two months recovering and planning his next steps.

Bruce rode east to Tolos, and then sailed across Slaver's Bay to Astapor. The city was a maze of red brick and dust clouds Bruce remembered. He had taken enough gold from the palace to travel comfortably for a decade, and once he left Astapor he had a long ride ahead of him. In his long nights of reading through the scrolls and tombs in his former master's library, he had come upon a map that piqued Bruce's interest immensely. Hidden in the mountains beyond the Red Waste lay a hidden palace similar to Rha's' where fabled dark warlocks resided. These mystics that other men feared Bruce knew to be nothing but performers with tricks that spurred just enough uncertainty and fear in the city folk to never stray into the wilderness looking for them. The scroll said they had the ability to disguise themselves so well that they became different people. That they could mimic the dialects and accents of other lands better than the most practiced mummer, and that they knew how to speak as smoothly as water to get what they desired. So well in fact that it was storied they could even talk a Dothraki Khal down from charging into battle. Bruce knew he needed to learn these skills, when he returned to Gotham deception would be his greatest ally.

When Bruce had finally arrived at this palace within the mountains, the Dark Whispers as they took to calling themselves would not accept Bruce. It was only after Bruce explained his story to their leader, in any language the man asked, was he impressed enough to agree to take Bruce under his wing. He stayed there for a year, learning the mannerisms and subtle details of how to look and sound like a different person from across the world. These tools could prove to be more valuable than most of the other skills he had learned since leaving Gotham.

If he were to fight the darkness and corruption of Gotham, he must remain a shadow himself. No one could know that their residing lord, Bruce Wayne, was striking out in the night silently and decisively to fight the crime and corruption of the city. His war was not a war that a King's Hand would fight if he were trying to lessen crime in King's Landing. No, a King's Hand would just pay for more guards, or better armor. This war was more personal to Bruce, so he would deal with it with the same level of intimacy. He cared not for lords fighting each other for land or a crown, he cared to stop the crime of his city. As his father had tried to do with gold and kindness, Bruce would do with cunning as sharp as the edge of a Valyrian blade, and a cloud of darkness that would make even the powerful Tywin Lannister fear challenging him.

He would soon discover how difficult this war would prove, as he left the Palace of Whispers to return West for the final time. He traveled for close to two months until he finally reached the city of Volantis on the other half of the continent. During his time standing in on Rha's councils with his assassin leaders, Bruce overheard a name mentioned multiple times. The name, Bruce learned, belonged to a blacksmith from Volantis that secretly made all of Rha's and his leaders' armoring and weapons with a masterful touch. His shop was located right on the waterfront, with a hidden underground layer where he kept his workings for the League of Shadows out of sight.

As Bruce approached the smith's shop he saw no one but an aging man of darker skin color standing next to the fire. The man had at least half a century in years on this earth, with his black hair now mostly light grey, the thinly trimmed mustache on his upper lip remained a darker shade however. His arms looked strong enough, but he certainly did not appear to have the well-muscled build of most blacksmiths. Bruce came to the obvious conclusion that this was a slave the smith had bought from one of the slave auctions along Slaver's Bay.

"Uh excuse me ser, is the master smith in?" Bruce asked pleasantly.

"You're looking at him sonny, what can I do ya for?" the black man replied with a sincere smile but eyes that seemed to be detailing Bruce's character as quickly as Bruce's were returning the favor.

"Oh my apologies, I just…" Bruce could not finish as the smith began laughing. "Ha Ha! Don't worry about it son, you aren't the first man to assume I'm a slave and you won't be the last. Nope, been a free man for close to twenty years now after serving twenty in some king's fleet for some war that the gods only know the point of," the dark skinned man said with a smile. When he smiled Bruce noticed the darker freckles upon his cheeks, and a glean of silent pride in the corners of his mouth. "Name's Lucius, Lucius Fox ser, how can I be of service?"

"How good of a smith can you be if you're arms are smaller than tree trunks and your chest not as broad as a bull's?" Bruce jested.

Lucius laughed again, "Ah that's funny ser, but most people overlook that part of my work. They think that the bigger a man is, the better his steel results. The real secret comes with wisdom sonny. I might not be as strong as I was years ago, but I sure as hell know how to make my steel come out of that hearth singing now. That's something that these young bulls you're speaking of sorely lack." With that Bruce was convinced, he liked this curious stranger.

That night Bruce told Lucius of all that transpired at the palace, to which Lucius replied with nothing but a laugh followed by, "never did care for that old goat, only ever saw him twice; normally he'd just send a lackey to get his armors or swords. Not that I complained, he gave me thrice as much gold than the work was worth, a smith's dream." As they talked Bruce learned that this odd blacksmith not only was good with a hammer, but was well practiced in the studies of cartography, healing, herbs and poisons, even alchemy. Bruce told the man of his history, and his plan and purpose once he felt he could trust this Lucius Fox. He offered the man the title of Maester or master at arms or whatever title he wanted in hopes of persuading him to return to Gotham with him. Bruce had great need of a man who had as much talent as he did wit and intellect.

Lucius replied to Bruce's offer with a smile, "Head over there and get outta this heat with a shiny new title, or stay here but without my best source of gold since you're telling me you shoved a sword in his heart, I think my hands are tied on this one Bruce."

They had left the city together a week after that, riding for Pentos to the northwest across the Flatlands. It would be another three weeks before they reached the city. Bruce had barely shaved since he left the Palace of Whispers, so he knew no one would confuse this bearded, long haired, weary traveler for the cleanly shaven servant-turned assassin from his last visit to the city. They stayed there another two months securing a ship, crew, and supplies to sail for Westoros, and today was the day his patience had been tested for. After fourteen long years had passed, it was finally time to return home to Gotham.

It was Bruce's twenty third name day today, he had nearly forgotten. As he boarded the ship and watched the deckhands scatter about, he remembered the last time he boarded a ship on the Narrow Sea, a month after his ninth name day. Alfred had ridden to King's Landing to see him off. Bruce was to be the squire of a traveling knight, Ser Valley Bruce remembered. _Not that it mattered_, he thought, _I slipped out from under his gaze within two months of arriving._ He wondered if Alfred had gotten the news and thought him dead. Bruce did not want Alfred mourning another loss of the Wayne family but he had no way to contact his faithful servant. _I am sorry old friend, I will make amends for any grieving you've done when I return…if you still wait for me._

Bruce remembered the look on Alfred's face as he prepared to board the ship all those years ago. "Now Ser Valley is a dutiful and righteous knight Master Wayne, you would do good to learn from his ways. Always remember the manners your mother taught you, and to keep a straight back and not to slouch as your father always reminded you. Don't speak out of turn, and always pay your debts as those arrogant Lannisters say," Alfred said to him as he kneeled down to fix the collar of the boy's overcoat. "Remember your parents will always love you dear boy, as will I," Alfred took Bruce into his arms and hugged him like his father use to.

As Alfred pulled back tears had formed in the corner of his eyes, "Oh I'm sorry Master Wayne, must be this nasty cold of winter biting at my eyes." He took the hanker-chief that was always present in his breast pocket out and dabbed at his dark blue eyes.

As Bruce watched Alfred slowly drift into the fog of the early morning and out of sight, the sadness overcame him and the dam of tears burst forth. Even now, remembering that morning from years ago Bruce's eyes still pooled at the corners with tears. As Lucius joined him at the bow of the ship, Bruce thought to himself, _I'm on my way old friend, and am returning with much more than when I left._


	4. Bruce Chp 1: Alfred Chp 1

_Ok! So here is the actual story finally! I'll be updating each week with two or three chapters and just like in the book each chapter is from the perspective of a different character, I hope you like it!_

_Bruce_: GOT Chapter 1

It was a long ride back to Gotham, and they still had a fortnight before they reached those dark brick walls surrounding the city. They had landed in King's Landing a week ago, after two at sea and Bruce's patience had almost reached their limits. Over fourteen years of waiting, preparing, training, and what it all was for was finally within his grasp. They had rode through Tumbleton and just departed from Bitterbridge last night. _I have waited this long, a few more days means nothing to me._

Lucius had proven to be invaluable company on the road, telling Bruce of people he had met, pyromancers he had learned under, mixtures and concoctions he had heard of with effects Bruce thought the blacksmith had made up. What interested Bruce most however were Lucius' ideas for inventions. It seemed the smith had a likening for tinkering and experimenting in his free time. Lucius even had sketches for what some of them looked like and how they would function. Bruce planned to invest a lot of time and gold into seeing these creations made real and determine how well they would practically work.

One of the more interesting drawings showed what appeared to be a crossbow but the bolt was tethered by a tightly wrapped, lightweight line of some form of metal rope. The typical arrowhead of the bolt was replaced with a larger arrow made of Valyrian steel with three arms branching off of it. When shot, Lucius said that the bolt-head would catch hold of a rooftop and the length of metal rope would be able to support a man climbing up it.

Lucius had brought much with him, a full wagon of supplies, tools, half-finished inventions, and three more wagons filled with only steel. The smith-of-many-talents recounted to Bruce the look on all of the smith's faces when Lucius approached them, a dark-skinned, aging man dressed like a noble, and asked for their entire stock of metal. Lucius laughed as he told them it looked like half the smiths shit themselves on the spot, while the other half had to ask to see the gold before seemingly following suit.

While Lucius had enjoyed making the blacksmiths of the royal city feel foolish, Bruce was on his own mission of sorts. He had trimmed his beard and cut his hair to just above shoulder length to look less of a traveler. He covered his eye with a rag wrapped around his head and dipped lightly in lamb's blood to appear wounded. Dressed in rags, he took to the streets disguised as a beggar to hear the gossip and rumors the poor of the city had to offer. The lessons he learned from the Whisperers from the Jade Mountains were already proving their value.

"If you wish to know the true nature of a city, simply listen to those whom the city does not," Rha's had told him on one of their walks. _And oh how they have so much to say_, Bruce thought as he limped around the streets of the slums of King's Landing.

Bruce learned that the night before his arrival, the current hand Jon Arryn had grown very ill without any signs of sickness the day before. He found this curious as men rarely traveled from healthy to bed-ridden without some from a normal illness. Bruce had learned from some mystic healers that there were poisons that could make a man die in a few short days with typical signs of illness covering the nefarious act. Bruce did not know enough to say for certain that Arryn had been poisoned though. Whoever wanted him dead, should they exist, Bruce knew would have covered their tracks anyway.

He also learned among his time as a peasant that King Robert and his wife despised each other. The heir to the kingdom, Prince Joffrey, was an "arrogant lil' shit that acts like a boy playing king" as one whore so pleasantly phrased. He also heard that Robert had bastards throughout the city. He also learned more of the other highborn families, Stannis Baratheon bided his time out on the rock he'd been placed on by Robert, the Starks stayed up North as they always have, the Greyjoys withered away on their Iron Islands, and Tywin Lannister sat atop his throne of gold in Casterly Rock just as he'd always done. _Perhaps things have not changed as much as I thought they had._ Things were definitely more peaceful then when he had left, with the kingdom still under the rule of the Mad King. Lords still lived beyond comfortably, the poor lived off their scraps, and the world continued to spin on.

Bruce was in the middle of listening to a group of whores gossiping about how Joffrey would probably have problems performing in bed with a real woman when they were interrupted by an irritated knight in golden armor with a golden cloak. Ser Jaime Lannister was as golden hued all over as he had heard from the sailors on the ship across the Narrow Sea. The knight had golden locks of hair, shiny golden armor, and a pretty golden cloak to pin it on. He truly did walk like a peacock strutting with its tail feathers in the air. Bruce wondered if Jaime had ever seen one of the birds from the coast of the Jade Sea, and if they would feel closer as kin than Tyrion and him when introduced.

"Whores! Have you seen my little deviant of a brother about? I'm told he disappeared here sometime two days ago and I have need of him at the castle," Jaime Lannister said with such a hint of arrogance in his voice Bruce wondered if it was in fact an adult Joffrey before him.

"No my lord, Clarissa told me he's moved to the _Bed of Roses_ for the night," one of them meekly replied.

Another decided to tempt fate, "You know my lord, I heard a lion is a fantastic mount in bed. If you please, I would very much like a chance to tame one." Some of the other girls giggled but Jaime did not look amused.

"I have no need of loose cunts wench, if my brother chooses to have a bedding competition with the King then he can go right ahead. And you peasant, what are you doing here?" he asked looking to Bruce.

"Oh, oh nothing my lord, just inspecting the ladies and wondering if it'd be worth my earnings for the day to warm my bed tonight," Bruce replied with a Dornish accent.

"It looks like you'll have a bit of difficulty with your inspection," Jaime chuckled pointing to the bloodied rag over Bruce's right eye. _He thinks himself so clever, if we met in an abandoned alley you would not walk away with the ability to move that arm "Ser"._

Bruce chose to actually retort with, "Oh good one my lord, no this is just from a tavern spat down the path actually. I was the lucky one, the other ser walked away with a broken arm and bashed in jaw," Bruce said with a light smile.

"Well see to it that you don't assault any of the city's men or I'll have your head," the proud lion said before spinning and walking away with the air of a king. _Aye my lord, but that fight would give me your pride and not you my head at its close, and I'll put it up on a spear alongside those heads on the wall for the world to see._

Bruce had wondered how Tyrion and Jaime could possibly have come from the same blood. Tyrion was full of wits and strategy, Jaime was nothing but a boy with a sword it seemed. Bruce had an urge to go find the little Imp and speak to him again, to see if Tyrion could see a longer shadow than when they spoke when he was younger. When they had spoken at the Wayne's funeral, Tyrion was even younger than Bruce was when he returned from his travels. Yet Tyrion had still known so much for his age, similar to Daenerys. Bruce wondered if he was as wise as they were when he was younger and wandering the world, somehow he felt he was not. But Bruce could not go and meet the dwarf for a second meeting; he still had a something left to do before meeting Lucius to continue on to Gotham.

Bruce had to send a raven to Gotham, to let Alfred know he was returning home. He feared the raven not making the journey so he had three sent, all carrying the same message. It was something only Alfred would know the meaning of in case the bird was intercepted somehow. It had subtle instructions for his return that he trusted Alfred to tend to, if he remained at all. _Will I return to the same loving arms I left? Or an empty castle with cold, abandoned halls?_ Bruce could feel the knot in his stomach of building worry and anticipation tighten as he and Lucius rode on towards home.

_Alfred_: Chapter 1

"Fourteen bloody years and he expects me to get a castle ready in a bloody week, what am I one of the damn Seven?" Alfred Pennyworth said aloud to himself as he came down the steps from the raven's keep. _The boy has returned a man, silent in the night, and lost in the shadows of the world_ the note the raven carrying read. He noticed two servants embraced in each other's arms kissing as he rounded the corner, "You two get to cleaning the main dining hall and tell everyone else to get doing their duties or I'll have all your necks on a stick!" The two lovers scattered in fear, Alfred could not help but love the way he could still scare the poor souls after all this time. The castle had become a dust-filled tomb compared to its former self. The dining hall had more cobwebs then chairs at this point and the few servants left within its walls were simply there to help the poor Doornishman from losing the place to the spiders.

The castle had sunk into a darkened abyss since the light of the Waynes had left it so many years ago. Alfred could barely stand living in the place anymore, such a thick shadow had been cast upon the place since Master Bruce's departure. Most of the doors of the place had not been opened in years, only the main corridors and rooms still being dusted and tended to. Nearly three quarters of the massive structure had been taken by sheets placed over the furniture, spiders taking the corners of rooms for themselves, and darkness slowly claiming more and more of the seemingly haunted castle.

The gargoyles stood watch over the grounds from their perches high up on the rooftops, looking down upon the city with fearsome eyes of stone. The shingled roof of black tiles reflected the sunlight quite beautifully during the day, but at night they seemed to absorb any light the moon or stars emitted making the castle seem even more daunting. Almost all of the windows were beautifully tinted glass of either red or yellow or blue, but now they seemed to be so pale. Even the stone bricks of the castle seemed darker to Alfred now, perhaps Bruce would bring a light with him in his return that would illuminate the place to its former glory.

Alfred was stirred from his thoughts of the past as he passed Thomas' study. He hesitantly opened the door, and walked into the abandoned room. There were white sheets everywhere, covering the chairs and tables and towers of books but it was the one in the middle of the room that haunted the Doornishman most. Standing alone in the center of the room the white sheet terrified Alfred to remove it, but he knew he must. _It's time to face the light Master Wayne, _he thought to himself. He opened the shudders on the windows letting a blinding light into the dark study. He moved to in front of the standing sheet that tormented his soul so. He wrapped his white gloved hands around the sheet before slowly pulling it to the floor. As the sheet fell to the ground, Alfred looked into the white marble eyes of Thomas Wayne.

_Your son is returning soon Ser, and soon light may return to this cursed city after so much time in the darkness, much like yourself I hope. _Alfred had the bust made shortly after their deaths, Thomas had spent so much time in this room that Alfred saw it only fitting to place the marble head here. The main dining room still had the massive family painting above the fireplace, but Alfred was not ready to remove that sheet just yet.

He shouted at a few more bumbling servants he found standing around before finally reaching his room and closed and locked the door. He finally had a moment to himself to take in all that he felt while reading the bird's message. He was beyond saddened to learn that Master Bruce was returning, knowing that there was nothing for him here but this ancient relic of a home and crime-ridden streets. He knew that the boy lived even after word came that Ser Valley had lost him, he had hoped he'd gone away. Married a breathtaking, foreign beauty and had little Waynes of his own. Alfred could not hope but be overjoyed at the same time though, for he had missed Master Bruce dearly. He had no children, no friends; his life had belonged to the Waynes, and their greatest treasure, young Bruce. Bruce could now be his life again, but he did not want the young lad's life to lie with the fate of Gotham.

He had done what he could to help Gotham in these dire times, but it proved more difficult than expected. The crime rates were worse than those in King's Landing when the Waynes still lived, but with Bruce gone the city continued to plummet into darkness it seemed. More than half the city guard left to fight the Targaryen king more than a decade ago to never return, and those that did took up their families and left for Highgarden to live a quieter life. The city guard was down to a quarter the strength it had when the Waynes were killed, and Alfred had no idea how to fix the situation other than giving Ser Gordon any gold he could spare.

The Waynes' wealth was another area that had declined over the years. As less people had come to invest into the city, the funds from Bruce's inheritance only dropped. Alfred knew the boy was still incredibly rich but he was no longer in the same bed as the Lannisters in terms of gold. _Perhaps things will change when he returns, and the people have someone to look up to again._

Bruce's letter however told that he did not want his return to be a grand affair. _In the silent of the night, and lost in the shadows of the world,_ the last line troubled Alfred greatly. Had the young, scared boy he sent out into the world really returned a dark shadow hiding in the night? Alfred would simply have to wait for the young master to return to judge for certain.

He had a growing pit of dread in his stomach as he went about cleaning as much of the castle as possible over the next few days. The other servants had doubtlessly been curious as to why after over a decade the castle needed to suddenly be tended to with such vigor. Alfred knew they suspected the master was returning, but Alfred never dignified any questions of it with responses. _They're paid to clean, not question, and paid more handsomely than is deserved the bunch of bloody slackers_, Alfred thought as he ordered them their day's work.

Perhaps Bruce was returning with a loving bride-to-be, and simply wanted the marriage to be a surprise to everyone. Or maybe he was building up some sort of dramatic suspense so that his return would be a story for the ages, the phoenix rising from the ashes. Another hope that came to Alfred's mind was maybe the young master would return with a small army of guards and wagons of gold, to help bring peace to the troubled city. He would be fabled a savior to the dark city and would help lift it from the shadows of corruption and crime. Alfred would have preferred any of these hopeful, unrealistic dreams, but somehow he felt he knew the truth. His master would return yes, but a changed man, darkened by the world and years of solitude, and the anger still burning in his soul.


	5. Selina Chp 1: James Chp 1

_Selina_: Chapter 1

The nights were beautiful in this city, despite most people saying otherwise. The city was a ruined mess to be sure, but at night it seemed almost peaceful in some way. At least to her they were; the rich nobles sleeping peacefully in their beds she could care less about. Yes, almost all of the crime in this godforsaken city happened in the dark of the night, but that just made Selina feel more at home. She had been born in Gotham, and would most likely die here.

Gotham lay at the point of the innermost cove where the sea surrounding the Shield Islands kissed the land. It was a city that had been born of fishermen and trading, and still retained those as its highest sources of income. Gotham was a three or four day ride from Highgarden by horseback, and was just out of the way enough to avoid most of the wars that had been waged over the centuries. Instead, Gotham chose to wage war on itself as crime spread like a plague throughout the city.

She knew everything about this city, what alleys to avoid at what hours of the night, where the thieves of the city hid, where the smugglers anchored their ships in the port, and most importantly which nobles would tip a whore most. Selina was one of the best in the city, mostly because of her notorious ability to turn nobles away whenever she cared to and they would still come back to try their luck again. Selina only had to bed two or three men a month to keep up her rather comfortable living arrangements. She had silk sheets, a few lovely dresses, and more gold than most of the other whores in the city, granted that wasn't saying much.

The city was slowly growing poorer, as crime notoriously rose with twice as much speed. Selina would pickpocket a few silver stags here or there, and sometimes snatch a necklace or some gold when she stayed the night with some pompous nobleman, but she hardly thought herself a criminal. She was just a girl doing what she had to to get by, and if she could do that with a little comfort room between getting by and failing she would be able to sleep at night all the same. _It's not like the rich ladies will miss a necklace or pocket full of gold all that much, I'm sure their righteous men will make up for it and then some to avoid suspicion._ Selina would always smirk when she'd return to the noblemans' estates a few months later only to see an even more valuable necklace in place of the one she had taken.

This night was different however, there was a storm coming and in more ways than one Selina feared. She wasn't walking the streets tonight since she slept with some noble of the Drakes or Cains last week, if she could call it that. The nobleman did what appeared to be seizing on top of her for half an hour before collapsing into a deep sleep. He paid Selina two gold dragons and she tipped herself his lady wife's new gold necklace for her troubles. But this night was darker than the others, she did not know why but she could sense it.

She gazed out her window, as she often did on her quiet nights alone in her room, but she never was truly alone. She felt the soft sensation of fur brush against her leg as her oldest cat, Marken, stepped in between her legs. She lived on the second floor of the famous _Lion's Den_, the best whorehouse in the city. She was one of the few to have a room to herself, save for the stray cats she would take in from the streets. She had near twenty cats at this point, Marken being her first refugee living with her for almost ten years now. _Had it really been that long?_ Sometimes she would reflect on her life, especially after the youngest girl in the whorehouse, Holly, would ask her about her history as a whore.

"How could I hate the only life I've ever known?" She would always tell the girl, but in truth she did hate it. She hated being a piece of meat to the fat or old nobles of the city, having to please a man to live, not being able to be free and live for herself. She hated the _look_ in their eyes when she stripped nude before them, and the _smile_ on their face after they had bed her.

She did not want this life, but she was born to a fisherman who died at sea when she was four, and a mother who died of illness three years later. What other choice did a girl have? It was either be a servant and be a man's bitch day in and day out, or a whore and only have to suffer through the nights. _At least my parents weren't slain right before my eyes,_ she solemnly thought.

Selina did not know much of the Waynes, she was only five when they were murdered. She had seen the young son Bruce once, but only in passing at the funeral. The look in his eyes had made Selina cry each night for the following week, and she never cried. She wondered how he dealt with the loss, not that it mattered. She had heard from some sailors a few years later that the knight he rode off with had lost him almost immediately after landing across the Narrow. _A sad end to a sad life_, but life was always sad in Gotham, the city seemed to feed off of it.

_James_: Chapter 1

"I'm sorry Barbara, but there were two murders tonight, a rape, and the blacksmith said ten swords were stolen from him this morning, I've got too much to deal with tonight," he told his wife regretfully.

"You say that every night Jim, every damn night you have too much to do! Someone was raped, or someone was killed, but what about the children? Young James has no one to look up to and our daughter seems to be growing more distant by the week! I'm tired of letting this city destroy our lives and make our home as dark as that damned castle on top of the hill that has more bats in it than people by now!" She clearly did not see the matter as it looked in James' eyes.

Ever since the Waynes had died and their heir gone, the city had slowly been lost to the darkness crime and corruption brought. He was losing more men each year as they were either killed or sought happier lives in other cities. _Can hardly blame them,_ James thought. This was not the first time Barbara had pushed to move out of the city, and it certainly would not be the last. He could not leave though, that would be giving up on the good he saw in the city. There was still good here, he knew it, he could see it in brief flashes, and that was enough to push him on through the long nights. Through seeing girls raped and left nude on the streets, bloodied corpses of men, women, and children scattered across the city, and through never seeing his children, James Gordon still managed to see good. He could hardly remember how old his daughter was now, he knew his son was still only six, or was he seven now? _Damn._

They had moved here close to twenty years ago, when the Waynes were still alive and well, their son barely older than a babe. His wife was content then, she was a woman of the North and far more confrontational and rowdy than most women he had met. She had lovely dark red hair, a pleasant looking face, and a fairly slender figure. They had a daughter six years after arriving, and gave her the name of Barbara as was common in her family. James had never been to the North, he had been a man of the South his whole life. He had been a knight under the Tyrells for a few years in Highgarden, but had moved to Gotham when offered the position of head of the city guard. He had just celebrated his seven-and-twentith name day before moving to the city and was a renowned swordsman in his prime. _The Fiery Blade_ they had called him in his youth, Lord Tyrell had once said his red hair danced like fire atop his head because of how quickly the knight moved. He was happy then, James knew it, but could hardly remember such a time.

Everything changed when he was told that one fateful night of the bodies found outside a playhouse, and the boy too scared to leave their side. He remembered the scene like it were only last night, with the boy huddled over the bodies barely making a sound. How intently the boy looked into his eyes, as if he hoped that somehow James could bring them back to life. It had wrenched James' heart for weeks, months maybe. He looked into that boy's eyes and could only imagine what his daughter's would look like gazing back up at him. As if it were him on the ground and her feeling alone in this world. For the first few nights after, he closed his eyes only to see the young Bruce's eyes looking back.

"We can't keep doing this James, it will just drag us down with this city…" Barbara said coldly.

"This city doesn't go anywhere as long as I am here. I will not give up and run! I will not let this city fall!" he returned, shouting towards the end. He hated arguing with her, while most men and their ladies would hide their issues, Barbara was not afraid of a fight. She would let James know whenever she was unhappy even if she was only a woman. James would sometimes laugh to himself about that, how his wife was more of a man than most of those serving on his city guard.

"Fine! Choose this city over your own family!" she shouted, storming out of his makeshift sleeping chambers above the guard's main keep. He had it set up two years after the Waynes' murders so he could stop sleeping in the chair at his desk. The bed was older, and the sheets dirty, but it was warm. Warmer than his real bed to be sure, and warmth was important as summer came to its end. _Winter is coming_ James smirked to himself, _how right the Starks always seem to be._

He was roused from his sleep a few hours later by a guard gasping for breath. "Ser…_ugh_…Captain, there's…" he tried to mutter in between breaths.

"Calm down son, what is it?" he replied curious as to who had been killed this time.

"It was just a rumor I heard from some servants from the castle Ser but it seems to be real now. Bruce Wayne is returning to Gotham."


	6. Alfred Chp 2: Bruce Chp 2

_So I've been getting some questions asking when Arya will be Batgirl or Gendry will be Robin, sorry to disappoint but I don't plan on changing the stories of any of the Game of Thrones characters. I'm just adding Batman and his lore to the story and having them interact within the established GOT lore, NOT drastically changing other characters._

_Alfred: _Chapter 2

It was a warm summer night, people watched quietly from their windows, a few even braved onto the streets. When the City Watch had notified Alfred when they spotted a small caravan of five wagons approaching the city walls, he knew at once that it was Master Bruce. Despite the young heir wanting his return kept secret, the servants spread their rumors to the streets, and soon from the streets word spread to the nobles. The _Prince of Gotham_ had returned. The news spread slow enough that he doubted the other cities had heard yet, but it was only a matter of time.

The caravan pulled through the stone, torch and lamp-lit streets. They disappeared for a time, but then reappeared as they rode up the hill to Wayne Castle. The carriages were pulling up in front of the castle as Alfred walked out to meet them. There were two simple wooden carriages followed by three wagons full of crates covered by giant, old sheets. Alfred was curious what Master Bruce had returned with that he did not want others seeing. He also wondered what the boy looked like as a man, if he would even be recognizable at all. Alfred got his answer as the door of the first carriage opened and his breath caught in his throat.

A hand wielding a wooden cane was the first thing Alfred saw appear from behind the door. The cane made a light _knock_ as it hit the stone beneath it, and a man who looked older than three-and-twenty should followed it. This stranger had a beard of trimmed, but not overly well, and thick, black hair long enough to brush his shoulders. He wore a black traveler's cloak preventing Alfred from seeing anymore of his features. Another man stepped out of the other side of the carriage, a dark skinned man with graying hair who must have been as old as Alfred at least. The two strangers approached Alfred slowly, the elderly gentleman looking around and taken in his surroundings, the cloaked man limping slowly up the pathway to where his faithful servant stood. As soon as they locked eyes Alfred knew without a doubt that it was Bruce before him.

"Good evening Master Bruce, I have kept the castle as close to ship-shape as possible, I have the cooks on hand ready to prepare anything you should desire and…" he was cut off as the cloaked stranger wrapped his arms around him in the embrace of a long, lost loved one.

"It's good to see you old friend," Bruce said quietly so that only the two of them could hear. "How long has it been?" he asked pulling back to look Alfred in the eyes once more.

"Fourteen long years Master Bruce, I see the road has not been overly kind to you," he replied with a smile and a quick look down to the cane.

"Ah yes _this_, we have much to talk about, and much to prepare. Let us go inside as to not give the city folk anymore material to speak over in the bars and inns than they already do," and with that Alfred led the two travelers into the castle and up into Thomas Wayne's study.

Bruce had Alfred lock the doors and sat in Thomas Wayne's chair, which Alfred thought was fitting. He laid his cane against the chair and poured himself a glass of water. Alfred stared at his long, lost master fitting in his former master's chair with astonishment. _Even with the ungainly hair and beard, he is the spitting image of Thomas Wayne. _When Bruce finished his drink he laid the glass down and began to speak.

Bruce summed up his travels, everything that had transpired with the League of Shadows, Daenerys Targaryen, and of his return home. Of the mentor he had killed, of the love he had lost, of the determination and skill he had gained. Alfred could only sit there with his eyes wide and his mouth gaped open, unsure of how to respond. _This is surely not the boy that left here those many years ago._

"Well Master Bruce, it seems you have been busy, but where does the cane come in? Were you injured when in this League of Shadows…?" Alfred said confusedly.

"Ha! No Alfred," he laughed as he stood up, dropped the cane to the ground, and walked around the room. "I sustained scars in my years away yes, but this is just a disguise. The cane and limp, all of it is to throw public suspicion from me when it begins."

"When what begins Master Bruce?" he looked from Bruce's eyes to this Lucius Fox's for an answer.

"I'm just as in the dark as you are ser, Bruce wouldn't tell me a thing. Just that we needed as much steel, plain or Valyrian, as we could carry and that we had to wait til' we got back here to speak of whatever it was he had planned," Lucius said with a smile to Alfred.

"You have Valyrian steel?" The metal was a rare and precious item in the world nowadays.

"Ha, I managed to get my hands on some over my years yes. Brought my whole stock of it with me," Lucius replied as Bruce picked his cane back up.

"Allow me to explain old friend, it is complicated," Bruce was looking directly into the fire in the heart of the fireplace. "The night my parents were murdered, I felt something, caught a glimpse of something. I traveled around the world, looked in all of the shadows, and I discovered there is something out there in the darkness. Something…terrifying, something that will not stop until it gets revenge…"

"Wh-what is it Master Bruce? What will not stop in the darkness?" Alfred asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

Bruce turned from the fire, the light from it dancing along the right half of his face casting it in its orange glow. The other half remained obscured in darkness. "Me."

_Bruce_: Chapter 2

Bruce looked from his loyal servant to his new master at arms before continuing on with his plan. He had not quite noticed how aged his old friend had become. Alfred's hair was gone from the top of his head, now sticking to the sides in a short, finely trimmed coat. His hair had turned silver, but his equally finely-trimmed mustache was still teetering on the edge of black. He had wrinkles of either age or stress under his eyes and at the corners of his lips. He wore the same white tunic with black satin vest he wore when Bruce had left, the bat of Wayne still proudly flapping its wings on his breast pocket.

Bruce continued, "I have learned many things in my absence, all of it for one, solid purpose. I am going to fight the crime of this city. Let the kings and lords squabble for land and glory and crowns. I will fight here, a war more real than one fought for arrogance or greed to be sure." The look in Alfred's eyes could tell that he was saddened by this news.

"I'm sorry Alfred, but this is what I must do. If you wish to leave, I understand, I cannot ask either of you or anyone for that matter to help me with this. If I need to do this alone…then I will." Bruce was partially shocked Alfred had stayed these fourteen years without a word from him, he could not ask Alfred of more emotional and physical burdening. Not after all he had done.

"You are not alone Master Bruce, and you never will be," Alfred said with a look of determination. _Faithful to the end_, now he could move on to his actual strategy.

"I will strike in the night, quietly, efficiently, unpredictably. I will need tools, weapons, but no killing, I've had a lifetime's worth of that and it weighs heavy on my soul. I care not to take on any more of a burden. I will need to keep my identity hidden, hence the cane and limp. If some figure of the night comes to Gotham the same time as its wealthy, physically able prince does as well…let us just say the Starks in the North would know by the morrow. But if that prince returns crippled, immobile, isolated; than that should dissuade most from suspicion.

"That is one way you will help me Alfred, we'll hold parties here, make it seem I'm simply King Robert's equal for drinking and doing nothing. We will pay off a few whores to say they were in my bed, so I did not feel less of a man because of my injury. If Bruce Wayne is partying and bedding whores while this stranger is fighting crime in the streets on the same night…that should be enough to convince the people of Gotham we are not one in the same.

"Lucius, I will need your help with my armor, I want it light but sturdy, mobility is necessary too. I have a certain idea of what I want it to look like. I will have need of your help with a few other items, and we will take a closer look at those sketches of yours." Bruce ended his long speech and awaited a response.

"Master Bruce, are you sure you are not hearing any voices in your head? Perhaps from all of the time alone on the road, or drinking too much sea water?" Alfred asked concerned.

"_Haha_, no my friend, I am not becoming as mad as the Mad King. I am determined, willful, and ready to take my city back, but no, not mad," Bruce replied calmly and with a smile.

He could see in Alfred's face that he had not convinced him, but that his ever-faithful servant was still going to stay at his side. For that Bruce was beyond grateful. While he felt waging this war could be done alone, Bruce was afraid of what he would become from it.

"So what do we do now Bruce?" Lucius asked with a small grin.

"We prepare. Alfred, see to it that ravens are sent out to the neighboring cities and castles, within a few days ride should do. Invite them to a party we are going to hold a fortnight from tonight. Lucius, we will unpack the steel and supplies ourselves. I do not trust anyone seeing what we have brought or where we will be taking it," Bruce told his two allies listening with rapt attention. Lucius looked pleased, Alfred on the other hand still had a look of confusion about his face.

"And where will that be Master Bruce?" the Dornishman asked.

Bruce smiled, "Alfred, do we still have those maps of the caves below the castle?"


	7. Richard Chp 1: James Chp 2

_Richard_: Chapter 1

The breeze felt good in his hair, as it always did. Dick felt at home towering over the crowds and people that always came to their circus. He nimbly exchanged bars as he continued on his way through the air via the trapeze bars hanging from the roof of the circus tent. He had practiced on these since his fifth name day, and now he was twelve, almost a man fully grown. He had mastered rope dancing, balancing on taught lengths of ropes dozens of feet in the air. He had learned to spin and twirl through the air between the hanging bars. Dick had even taught himself to climb and run through trees like a squirrel, and to fly across the rooftops in his free time whenever they visited cities. He was at home whenever he was not on the ground.

He took another leap and twirled through the air as his hands met the strong hands of his father's and locked eyes before continuing on. His father always smiled with pride after each and every jump his son successfully made. If Dick ever fell in practice, his father would merely say, "_Ha Ha_! I guess you gotta keep earning those wings son. Don't fret though, I think I can see the bulges on your back where they're gonna sprout!"

His father was a big man, made of as much muscle as one of the King's blacksmiths, but John Grayson had a kind heart. He had strong arms that could throw his son up into the air a few feet even now. Dick's father was loved throughout the seven kingdoms and other travelling circus troupes for being such a warm-hearted man. He had been born into the circus, just as Dick had, and loved every minute of it. While most families had sigils and words that inspired honor or respect, the fluttering robin of the Grayson family inspired love he was told.

"Robins make the best parents Richard, and so we bond ourselves by love and lifting each other up, what are the words of our house son?" his mother Mary would ask whenever Dick grew discouraged after a fall.

"_Spread your wings and fly_," Dick would always reply with a smile. She would then hug him, and say, "Then go my sweet, spread them and soar!" Then out of nowhere his father would come from behind him and swoop him up in his arms. Dick would laugh endlessly as his father carried him around above his head, and would actually feel like he was flying.

Now his father flung him across the gap to his mother, as they locked hands the crowd roared from below. That was Dick's favorite part of the night, how the crowd grew quiet only to burst forth with loud cheers when the Flying Grayson's locked arms after braving a gap of open air. They used no nets during the main events before the audience; crowds never reacted the same when lives weren't on the line.

"Apparently city folk don't get enough life and death entertainment from the beheadings or wars that are fought. So they enjoy us putting our heads on the line as well!" his father would jest. It was fine though, a Grayson never fell under pressure. They had done this routine near a hundred times over their tour of the seven kingdoms. They had been to Highgarden and Honeyholt, Summerhall and Casterly Rock, and now risked their lives in Goldengrove. But the crowds cheered all the same.

After they had taken their bow and the masses of people left, Dick watched from the treetops as all of the people flooded back to their homes and keeps. He wondered what it would be like to live in the same place for years on end, for a lifetime. He knew he would never experience it though; he was going to live in the circus his whole life just as his father has and his father before him. He watched the trainers take their striped horses back to their cages, the beast tamers take their lions and striped cats back to theirs, and finally the main tent slowly collapsed like a mountain falling in on itself.

"Dick? Are you out here sweetie? We have some great news!" He heard his mother shout from somewhere below.

Then he heard his father's loud, boisterous laugh, "Oh come now Mary, he is a squirrel! Shout to him in the clicks and chittering of a forest creature and offer him some acorns and he'll surely come down!"

Dick climbed swiftly and deftly through the tree limbs down to where he heard his parents' voices originating. He popped his head down through the branches with an ear to ear grin shouting, "Hear I am!"

"Oh get down from there you squirrel of a son, we have something to tell you!" Dick jumped to the ground with a soft _thud _as his small feet hit the ground in between where his parents stood. "We're going to Gotham! The lord of the city just returned after being gone for a very long time and we're performing at his return celebration!"

_James_: Chapter 2

"I don't care how many men we're lacking! Find a man with two arms, put him in some armor and give him a damn sword!" Ser James Gordon shouted at two men who had just told him that they were sorely wanting of the manpower they needed. A fact that had not escaped him, but he did not need others reminding him that his one hundred or so guards would not be enough to secure the safety of all of the guests coming to Bruce Wayne's return festival. _Been back a few days and he's already causing me grief, ugh, nobles._

The city thought him a messiah, returned to wash away all of the city's problems as if James and his men had done nothing but twiddle their thumbs this last decade. All Bruce Wayne's return meant to him was one thing and one thing only, _stress._ Within two nights of the Prince of Gotham's return, there have been twice as many murders than there have in the past fortnight combined, and reports of robberies have become an hourly occurrence.

_Ugh, what I would not give for some ale and a decent night's sleep. _He had slept only an hour since Wayne's return and it did not appear he would be gifted with any more in the coming weeks. A knock at the door forced his eye-lids open, not even realizing they had closed in the first place. His second in command, Harvard Bullock, was standing in the door.

Bullock was a big man, and hot-tempered to be sure, but loyal. His double chin had the scruff of a man who had not shaved in more than a week, and his eyes had sunken bags under them. He never left James's side though, any night James was here his Lieutenant stayed as well. He was one of the few men James actually trusted, with many of his men doubtlessly paid off by either gangs or the other nefarious groups of the city. "What is it Harvey?"

"It's your daughter Ser, she needs to see ya she says"

Gordon waited a moment, wondering if speaking to his daughter with his level of stress and exhaustion was a good idea. "Alright Harv, send her in."

Moments later his eldest child, young Barbara walked in. She was already four-and-ten, but James still remembered her bouncing on his lap as a babe. He was ecstatic when he saw her starting to grow his light orange hair from her bald little head. She was a woman fully grown practically, though James still hated admitting it. She looked lovely in her silver, shimmering dress and matching thin necklace around her throat. He suddenly realized how disheveled he looked, with his white tunic of the city guard wrinkled and stained, even torn in some places. He tried as best he could to straighten it as he stood to greet her, "Barbara, what are you doing down here on a night like this? I told you it is dangerous at night."

His daughter rolled her eyes, "Father, I'm almost five-and-ten, I can handle myself. And I came because I wanted to show you the dress mother bought me for Bruce Wayne's big night! I figured you would want to see what I waste your hard earned gold on." She giggled a bit before coming over to hug him.

"_Ugh_, Barbara you're going to be the death of me one of these days. Your stubbornness _and _that monster you call a sense of humor."

His daughter backed up and spun around, the dress swaying below her like a wave on the sea. "Well c'mon, how do I look?"

James hesitated, lost in how beautiful of a woman she had grown into, and the cute little girl he would always remember. "You look…beautiful. Why I bet Bruce Wayne himself will have a hard time taking eyes off you," he said with a laugh.

"Father! I bet Bruce has seen far more beautiful girls in whatever exotic lands he was in before coming back to be stuck in this miserable place!" she replied reddening in her cheeks.

"Not possible. For no matter what bright and beautiful places he went to, there is no young woman more beautiful than my princess stuck in this miserable place," James smiled and ruffled his fingers through his daughter's hair. He knew she hated it when he did that.

"Ser!" James heard Bullock's voice from outside with several footsteps.

"What is it Harv? Can you not see I am with my daughter?"

Harvey rounded the through the doorway, "my apologies Ser but we just got an order from Bruce Wayne's head servant that they want four hundred more city guardsmen trained and ready by the time of the feast!" Bullock said, sweat matting his hair. James wondered how quickly Bullock had run up the stairs to get him sweating this much.

"Well that's all right and fine, but we lack the resources for that, even what Pennyworth's been donating hasn't been enough for more than what he have now." Alfred Pennyworth had always tried to do what he could to help support the City Watch, but it just was not enough.

"That's the thing Ser, he gave us more gold." James had not been expecting that answer to be sure.

"How much we talkin' here Harv?" The overweight man stepped to the side as two guards entered the room, carrying a small chest full of gold dragons within it.

"Oh, that much," Barbara Gordon said at the same time her father thought it. _That much is right._


	8. Bruce Chp 3: Alfred Chp 3

_Bruce_: Chapter 3

His hair felt odd being so short, well short in relation to what Bruce had grown accustomed to. For the past three years his hair had not been shorter than his shoulders, and now it was no longer than his thumb. Alfred said a lord must at least look the part, but allowed him to keep his beard for now, granted that was trimmed shorter too. Bruce would shave it off soon, but he needed it for what he was doing tonight, he was no lord this night.

He walked down the abandoned, darkened alleyway in the dead of night with nothing but the sound of his footprints upon the stone to accompany him. The windows were all closed along the streets as he passed, the doors closed and barred too most likely. Torches spotted the path, casting a dim orange light on the dark stone. This was the worst part of the city, the alleys where the whores decorated the street, and the thieves and criminals of an even worse breed waited in the shadows. It had come to be known as the _Narrows_.

He had forgone the cane and limp, instead choosing an eye patch, trousers, and torn, loose, white shirt with a worn black leather vest over it. The eye patch would deflect any possible likeness to Bruce as it would stick in witnesses' minds. Not that Bruce had given the people a good enough look when he limped from his carriage to his castle two nights ago anyways. _Time to see how the enemy lives and operates._

This was simply a scouting mission, to see how prevalent the city streets were with crime at night, and how bad the worst area of the city truly was. He was in the enemy camp now, up to the neck in rapists, killers, and other unfavorable company. He was outside some whorehouse named _The Lion's Den,_ when a young girl approached him.

"Good evening sir, how much for a fun time and some warmth in your bed?" the young girl asked. She had dirty, curly blonde hair that reached down past her shoulders. She wore a loose violet blouse with black, dirty boots. She looked no older then twelve.

"How old are you my lady?" Bruce asked kneeling down beside her.

"How young do you want me to be ser? I assure you I know well what I'm doing in bed," she said looking nervous.

"I'm sure, but sadly I am not looking for compa…" Bruce was cut off as a man came from behind the girl shouting. He had a thick mustache and dirty, greased back hair. He was a stout man but not overly short, and had a compounded, grubby face. He was wearing a black overcoat with a nice looking white tunic underneath, he had a few gold necklaces under his chin as well.

"No you stupid whore you're doing it wrong! You have to know which ones got the gold and which ones are interested. And this fool is _not_ interested!" The man shouted at the young girl.

"I do not recall saying whether I was interested or not _ser_," Bruce said calmly but authoritatively.

The man waved a hand and shouted at him without turning his gaze from the young girl, "You're still here you load of horse shit? Get lost and be quick about it. Now we'll talk about this later you dumb little bitch."

Bruce was irritated now, "No, I think you are finished with her right _now_." _No turning back now, time to see what my years of training are truly worth._

The man looked quickly to the girl, before his eyes darted to the sheathed dagger at his belt, and then back to Bruce. _Could he be more obvious?_ Bruce easily sidestepped the man when he grabbed his knife and jabbed forward for Bruce's stomach. _He is quick for a snake, I wouldn't say he stands a chance, but he's quick_, Bruce thought to himself as he broke the scum's arm, effectively disarming him. Other whores had come out of hiding to watch their employer get taught a lesson. _Should not have stayed so long, caused such a scene, need to get out of her before-._ The young girl Bruce had just saved stabbed a knife into the back of his calf and shouted, "Grab him! I got him!"

Bruce kicked the nearest whore running at him in the gut, _should keep her out of this._ He punched another across the chin, and tossed another into the nearest pile of hay. _Great Bruce, first night on duty and you are beating street whores. That will strike fear in the criminals of Gotham._

Bruce heard the sound of feet landing hard behind him, and turned in time to dodge a kick fly past his chin. "No one hurts Holly!" the woman shouted before quickly landing two blows to Bruce's stomach. Bruce had time to dodge another kick before punching her across the face. The girl jumped back to her feet smirking.

She had brown hair as straight as a sword's edge that stretched down to between her shoulders. Beautiful red lips, and light blue eyes that men would kill to stare into. The woman had an odd, graceful beauty to her, something Bruce had never seen in a whore. She was thin and clearly feminine, but her blows had a deceptive strength to them.

"I had this Selina! Why did you have to get involved?" the young girl shouted at the woman Bruce was currently fighting. Bruce went to land another punch, but this Selina blocked the punch efficiently and tactically. _So she knows how to fight better than the average drunkard, cute._ Bruce doubled around and landed an even harder punch to her right cheek. _That should keep her down._ She went crashing into a stack of crates behind her, and as she propped herself up on her elbow rubbing the blood from her chin they heard an unwelcomed sound in the distance.

"Hault! No one move!" Bruce heard some members of the city guard shout from down the street. _I cannot afford to get caught, if I get caught it's all over, everything wasted for nothing._ As Bruce turned to run, a crossbow bolt shot into his upper back. Pain screamed through Bruce's muscles as he pushed himself to sprint as best he could down the nearest alleyway and out of sight. He ran to where he had tied his horse and rode off towards Wayne Castle.

Bruce took the longer route through the forest to avoid being seen. He tied his horse off again to a tree, and crept up to the castle walls. It was one of the weaker defensive points that only Bruce had known about, a spot in the wall where a few of the stone bricks stuck out enough to climb. Bruce waited until the guards had left the area before climbing up and over. His shoulder and leg burned the entire time, but he grinded his teeth and bared the pain.

He reached the back of the castle, and broke through a window into one of the guest rooms. All of the servants would be asleep at this time of night, so he did not fear being seen. Not that it mattered, with so much blood leaking from his leg and back he could very well die if Alfred did not find him in time. He limped his way to his father's study down the hall. He sat in his father's old, red satin chair before his father's bust. Blood pooled on the ground under him and dampened the chair. He reached for the bell on the table beside him, knowing that ringing it would summon Alfred who slept just a bit further down the hall.

_Father…I am afraid I may have to die tonight. I have tried to be patient, but I don't know how, how do I do it father? What do I use…to make them afraid? _Bruce stared into the white eyes of his father, wishing that his marble lips would part and tell him the answer._ If I ring the bell, Alfred will come to stop the bleeding. Another of your precious gifts to me, father. I have wealth, a maze of caves below me to serve as my keep…even a servant skilled in healing and the gods know what else. Yes father…I have everything but patience; I would rather die…than wait another…hour. I have waited so many years…it has been fifteen long years, since all sense left my life. _

At that instant, a bat crashed through the window, wings pushing it onward. Bruce's face reflected off the shards of flying glass falling through the air to the floor. It landed atop his father's bust, screeched once, but then fell silent. It turned itself to face Bruce in his chair, slowly bleeding to death as he sat and looked back at it. They locked eyes, the small black beads in its skull showing no emotion. _I remember this, I have seen it somewhere, yes…our family's sigil. The bloodied bat on your tunic the night you were taken from me father. It frightened me…it…frightened me…Yes. Father. I shall become a bat. _Bruce's hand slipped around the handle of the bell, gripping it tightly and with a strength of will to live that even the Seven would fear to cross.

_Alfred_: Chapter 3

The ringing woke him almost immediately; it was coming from down the hall somewhere. Alfred knew what the ringing meant at this time of night though, _trouble. _The old Dornishman flung himself from his bed with the agility of a man half his years, and sped down the hall. As soon as he saw the trail of blood leading into the main study with the door left ajar he knew it was more dire of a situation than he had feared.

Alfred burst into the room expecting to see Bruce on the floor in a pool of his own blood, dying and gasping for air. Instead, Bruce sat calmly in his father's chair clutching the bell in his hand, and then he saw _it._ Sitting atop Thomas Wayne's pale white head was a bat, with black little eyes and a dark coat of fur. It turned to lock eyes with the astounded servant. Alfred stared into those dark, consuming pits. He had never cared for the little beasts despite it being the sigil of the family he served, but looking at this creature now…it filled Alfred with a sense of dread.

Before he could say anything, the bat screeched at him, followed by something Alfred could have sworn was a trick his eyes had played on him. The bat gave a slight nod of its head to him. Before Alfred could realize what had just happened, the bat leapt from the marble head and flew out the window from whence it came. Alfred snapped out of his confused rationalizing of what he had just witnessed when he heard Bruce grunt with pain.

"Master Bruce!" He ran to the young man's side to see what wounds he had sustained. _Heavy bleeding from his calf and the arrowhead from the bolt is still lodged in his back,_ Alfred concluded after examining him closely. He helped his injured master to his feet, and slowly brought him to the guest dining hall where he laid him out on the large, oak table. He fetched Lucius to assist him, grabbed the proper supplies he needed, and set to work.

First he gave Bruce a drink of a special mixture to put him to sleep quickly. Alfred preferred it to the milk of the poppy that the maesters of Westoros had grown so fond of. Using that made the drinker groggy and dizzy upon waking, while this mixture Alfred learned from some healers from Myr only gave the drinker a splitting headache afterwards. Somehow he figured that Master Bruce would prefer that pain over not being able to move for a few hours, despite Bruce needing the rest.

He treated and wrapped the stab wound in Bruce's leg first, then doubled the bandages after blood began leaking through the first set. Then he removed the arrowhead from Bruce's back as Lucius sprinkled a powder Alfred had made over the wound. His master's eye-lids fluttered, and he groaned in pain as Alfred had sewn the wounds back up. Once they were sewn together, and Alfred began wrapping, his master stopped his soft groaning and writhing.

Once Bruce finally lay still, sleep overtook him. It was more sleep than Alfred imagined he had had in quite some time. Alfred however was not so lucky, the image of the bat haunted the Dornishman's mind all night. _Why did the bloody creature nod at me…beasts do not nod whether it's a mouse or a mammoth. _

The one dream Alfred did manage to have in his brief half hour of sleep was just as haunting. He was tied to the chair he had discovered Bruce in in his father's study, mouth covered with a tightly wrapped cloth. It was blindingly dark, save for a bright light shining down on him like a close moon. The light was interrupted however, by a nightmarish outline. A giant bat was beating its wings over him, each of its eyes as big as Alfred's head. The creature just suspended itself there, flapping its wings to tread the air, as Alfred helplessly stared into the dark, soul stealing eyes. Then the bat did something even more unexpected than nodding to him, it spoke.

"Alfred, my beloved old friend, I have need of you. Your time of serving me has come to an end, but now you must serve my son. Help him Alfred, guide him, lend a hand to pull him out when he gets too shrouded in his darkness, but above all my dear friend, love him," the chilling creature said with the loving voice of Thomas Wayne.

"But, but Ser…how? I know not of what young Bruce intends to do, or how to help him in the slightest. I fear…I have lost your son to the demons in his heart…" Alfred said solemnly, the cloth that was gagging him suddenly gone. He broke his gaze with the beast, and looked down to the ground in defeated shame.

The large monster gave a frightening, but sincere smile, "He is not lost dear Alfred, but merely shrouded, confused by the darkness inside him. Be his light my friend, be the light that guides him…"

Alfred's eye-lids parted, realizing he was back in his bed, and that Master Bruce had great need of him. _The nod was a sign…the spirit of the father, protecting the son._ He left his bed, dressed in his usual servant dressings, and went to see how Bruce had faired his night. As Alfred opened the door to the guest dining hall where he had left him, he saw no sign the room had even been touched save for some dried blood on the table. He searched Bruce's room, the feasting hall, even Lucius' chambers but the Summer Islander had not seen him either. When he finally found him in Thomas Wayne's study after half an hour of searching, the young Wayne was doing pushups.


	9. Selina Chp 2: Bruce Chp 4

_Selina_: Chapter 2 

"As I have said again and again, I have no idea who the man was. He attacked my friend, I came out to defend her," Selina said growing increasingly more impatient with each half-witted question. They had asked for a description of the man, who he was, where he came from, and some other foolish questions in at least four different iterations.

"That's all well and good m'lady, but that window you jumped out of was on the second floor. You also were seen in the company of a known criminal who we have already arrested," the guard replied sternly. Selina hated the guards, not only were they no fun to listen to, but they had the personalities of stone walls_. May_ t_he Others take them_.

_Him_ however, he was interesting. She did not know what his name was, or even who he was, but he intrigued her. He was a right bastard for hitting her girls though, even if he was only defending himself. Her face still burned with pain, taking a hit from him in both cheeks. _He held back though, I've been hit before by strong men but he pulled back at the last second thinking I'd miss it. He is a man with some slight of honor, whoever he is. Beating up whores but not letting himself use his full strength, how noble._

Selina had to admit to herself that the stranger knew how to fight though. She saw a style of combat she had only seen smugglers from the Jade Sea use before. So whoever he was he was not a common, drunken brawler. He took out each of her girls as quickly and painlessly as possible. Two of their shoulders were injured, one had a fractured ankle, another had a very ugly looking bruise on her stomach, but none had a broken arm like that low-born scum who pretended to run this street. _Bastard got what was coming to him he did._

Selina smirked, "I guess I just know how to land on my feet ser, and as for him, I've never seen him before."

The man who the guard has spoken of, and believed himself to run this street, Devon, was in chains on the other side of the alley. After Selina had said her line, he shouted at her, "Don't you go lying Selina! You were my best whore! No pussy in the seven kingdoms could fetch as much gold as yours!"

That pushed Selina over the edge, but she kept her cool. She walked over to him slowly and seductively, "You know my problem with men ser?" The man gave a foul smile, showcasing his yellow teeth, and shook his head. "Haven't met any," Selina quickly kneed him in the groin making him collapse to the ground shouting in pain. She gave the guard a look, letting him know he was next should he tempt fate.

"T-that will be all m'lady, we will return should we need anything else," the boy said sounding as if he had pissed himself.

"I'm sure you will," she left them and walked into the _Den_ to scold her girls. They were all in the small dining hall, tending to wounds or fluttering about the night's events. "How many times have I told you, we do not start fights! We're only whores, not soldiers!"

One of the older girls of the whorehouse, Tessia, spoke up, "But we had him, it wasn't our fault whoever that stranger could fight better than any man we've seen. We figured Holly gettin' him with that knife would've been enough to slow him down, would have if he was any ordinary man for sure."

Selina was losing her patience, "Well if you did not start a fight to _begin with_ we would not have had any trouble! And Holly, don't go around stabbing any man who turns you down! It's bad for business."

Holly looked rather broken up, quietly saying, "I know I shouldn't have, but I panicked. He was only trying to save me…" It was impossible for Selina to stay angry with the girl for long, she was practically her little sister. She was just like one of Selina's many cats, a stray she found on the street, orphaned and alone.

Selina patted her head, "_Ugh_, it's alright my sweet, just please refrain from making it commonplace. I won't always be there to save your asses when some damn dogs come sniffing around for some free tail." They needed her, she knew it, but sometimes she wondered how much easier life would be if she did not have to worry about _them_.

She went up to her room, greeted by her entourage of cats, all meowing to be fed. She picked some scraps of chicken out of a metal bucket and put it in the food bowls scattered around the floor. She hand-fed the young kitten she found a few days ago with the smallest pieces. The kitten had dark-black, sleek looking fur, with bright green eyes and a little black nose. The creature was skin and bones when she found him, but he had fattened up enough these past few days so she did not need to worry herself over the small, black speck anymore. She picked up the kitten and held her up to meet noses, "Hmmmm what should I call you precious? How about…Isis. You'll grow so agile and fierce that even the lions of Casterly Rock will fear you." She heard Holly come in quietly as she put the kitten down.

"What are we going to do Selina? Stay whores for the rest of our lives? Or until some soldier beats us to a bloody grave, or some smuggler decides to slit our throats after taking us forcefully?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"No, I'm finished being a whore for the fat, rich snobs of this city. From this point on I'm striking out on a different path." Selina smiled, big changes were in store, and it started tonight.

_Bruce_: Chapter 4 

It was dark, cold, damp, but above all, _perfect._ The caves beneath Wayne Castle were perfect for his lair; there were dozens of entrances on the face of the cliff overlooking the bay but only birds and bats posed a threat of discovering him that way. There were only two entrances by land. The first was a cave entrance covered by large ferns and bushes in the woods to the east of the castle. The other was a thin path under the waterfall on the opposite side of the castle, shrouded by the white mist and fog of the falls. Neither would be discovered unless someone was looking meticulously in the areas for them.

All of the cliffs surrounding Gotham had networks of caves lying within them, so Bruce knew no one would find this wonderfully opportune place. The walls were a dark shade of stone but beautifully reflected the lamplight of the torches Bruce had set up. It gave Bruce more than enough light to look around the massive hole beneath the earth, allowing him to plan his future sanctuary. Bats fluttered above him, clinging to the roof of the cave resting, waiting for the night to come. _As am I my friends. The North can keep their godswoods, the South can keep their dazzling throne-rooms and dining halls, all I need is this cave to give me peace._

The tunnels weaved in and out of each other until finally ending in one large hollow directly beneath the castle. Most of the ground was buried beneath a foot or two of water, but there were large islands of smooth stone jutting out from the shallow pool at the cave's floor. Bruce was already planning where to put Lucius' smith supplies, his armaments and armor, and where he would keep the dark black stallion he would ride to and from of the city on. Bruce had tethered a rope from above the waterfall to climb down into this dark cave as to avoid detection by going off the grounds. As much as he knew his crippled performance would help him in the future, it had made going off the grounds without guards wanting to escort him a terrible pain. He had given Lucius the gold to find fifty men that he trusted to act as guards to the castle walls. No guards were permitted to come into the castle however, only the dozen or so servants Alfred kept in his employ and a dozen or two more for the parties they would be throwing.

Bruce climbed back up the rope with great ease; it was only a hundred foot drop from the edge of the cliff where the Castle rested to the small path beside the waterfall below. His leg still ached horribly from where the young girl had stabbed him, but it was bearable enough to move around on now. The wound from where the arrowhead had pierced his back was also healing rather nicely due to Alfred's knowledgeable aid. When he reached the top and pulled himself up, Lucius was awaiting him with a wrapped bundle in his arms.

"Is that it?" Bruce asked as he picked up his cane and then proceeded to limp back into the castle.

"Yes Bruce it is, I tried to form it as best I could to your sketches, but added a little personal touch of my own to it," the aged, dark-skinned man replied with a smile. They walked into his father's private study and Lucius set the bundle upon the table in the middle of the room. Alfred had done a marvelous job removing the dried blood from the floor, and the blood stains from the chair as well. _All before the other servants even stirred from their rooms_, Alfred added whenever he reminded Bruce how much strife he had already put the man through.

Bruce began to undo the bundle of cloth as Lucius looked on like a father waiting to see their child's expression when they unwrapped a gift. As Bruce pulled away the last fold of cloth, he lifted the helm up to the sunlight to better inspect the smith's work. It was custom fitted to Bruce's head and face, and was made of black-tinted metal. It was still light weight though, as Lucius assured Bruce he knew ways to make the metal strong but also rather light. It was some layering and cooling technique he had learned from the smiths across the Narrow Sea apparently.

It was dark, barely reflective even, and only revealed the wearer's eyes, mouth and chin. The helm fit close to the skin, and as Bruce put it on he could feel how snug to his head it really was. It made his chin felt even more naked, as it was the only part unprotected by the helm and now was shaven smooth so Bruce would look more like a noble and less like a traveler. He looked into the glass window to see his reflection, and was pleased with what he saw. The helm was narrow and sleek, unlike the bulky, overweight ones knights wore. Its most peculiar feature were the two horn-like spikes pointing up from towards the back of the helm above Bruce's ears.

"It's perfect, is the rest of the armor ready?," asked Bruce as he turned from the window to face Lucius.

The older man's eyes widened for a second, observing his work actually being worn and not just on an anvil. "You look…" he trailed off. Lucius appeared unable to finish his sentence as he stared at Bruce, finding himself to be in both fear and awe of the man before him.

"Like a bat," Bruce finished. He was ready, he could feel it in his bones, in his soul. _Tonight, the world will lay witness to the dawn of Bruce Wayne's true shadow. _


	10. Richard Chp 2: Selina Chp 3

**_Richard_**: Chapter 2 

"Is Gotham as breath-taking as King's Landing father?"

John Grayson chuckled a little, "No son, Gotham is a dark place as of late. See, years ago, when I was only a little older than you, Gotham was looked over by the Waynes. They were very generous people, loved their city despite its grievances and loved their son Bruce most of all. One night however, they were killed, and the boy was left with nothing but a cold, empty castle. Less than a year later he left Westoros across the Narrow Sea, and was never heard of again. Most just assumed he had died, I don't believe anyone expected him to return, especially after this long of a time with no word.

Gotham has much to despair over Dick; the streets run rampant with crime, its heir gone for more than a decade, and the city guard I hear has withered greatly. A cloud of dark gloom hangs over the city like a plague, but the Wayne boy's return could prove to lift the city up. Bring it back into the light and peaceful times that the rest of the seven kingdoms enjoy. Perhaps we will help lift the people's spirits _Hoho_!" Dick's father slapped his knee lightly and chuckled.

"I would like that…" Dick said as he looked out to the countryside. Summer was nearing its end he was told, and soon autumn would begin followed by what was sure to be a very bleak winter.

The bright green leaves rattled in the wind as he looked out across the rolling hills. There were fields with farmers tending the crops, and boys and dogs running through the fields chasing each other. They passed a bright blue lake with fisherman casting out nets from their little, wooden boats. They passed through a small village where the smell of freshly baked bread lingered in Dick's nose for hours. Riding through the countryside of Westoros was one of Dick's favorite parts of being in the circus. They saw so many different places, full of different colors, sounds, smells, and people.

When they stopped for the night, Dick took to the trees to look up at the starry sky with nothing interrupting his view. Things looked so peaceful from up here. He could see the faintest glimpse of Gotham beyond the tree line. The lights from the city putting the smallest glare on the line where sky met earth and Dick wondered how a place with so much light could be so dark.

He then looked down to the many camps the circus folk had built, and heard the whinnies of the striped horses and the roars of the lions and bears. Dick felt so at home like this, on the road with his people, not living under a lord or having to do boring tasks like a life as a baker's apprentice or a smith's ward would bring. _I couldn't fly if I lived within the cages of city walls for the rest of my life. _

Dick thought of Bruce Wayne, the man whose return this grand celebration was dedicated to. _If my parents…could I have done what he had?_ He did not know what Bruce Wayne had done in his absence from his home city, but he was sure that it was something that had to have changed Lord Wayne's soul. Disappearing from not only Gotham but the entirety of Westoros for over a decade was something Dick could not imagine. _Leaving out of grief is one manner, but if he had left with a passion burning in his soul, that is entirely another. But why would he return to this cage of a city? Honor? Duty?_

He had heard the tale of fabled knights, either living with dutiful honor for their entire life, or dying with it on the battlefield. These stories did not interest Dick in the slightest; he hated how knights could live so strictly and without ever enjoying anything in life but killing. He had heard stories of the infamous Kingslayer Jaime Lannister, who was rumored to love killing more than life itself.

_What sort of man loves ending others' more than he loves his own? I will never be a knight, I will always be a free-flying robin of the circus. Spreading my wings and soaring every night. _The thought always made him sleep well at night.

**_Selina_**: Chapter 3

Selina's life as a whore had come to an end, and her life as a master thief was just beginning. She had stolen from men before, but only because they generally thought with the head in their pants and not the one on their shoulders. If they brought a whore into a wealthy estate with poorly guarded but precious valuables, what did the rich bastards expect to happen? Now she was making thieving her only profession, no more having to please the pathetic excuses for men first. Oh she would tease and seduce them first to be sure, but she was done being a simple bedding trophy.

It was two nights before Bruce Wayne's grand return celebration. Selina had heard they even went as far as to get a traveling circus to come put on a show for the night. That would be her first grand heist in her new life as a master thief. Selina first needed to test herself to see how skilled of a thief she was. She was going to kindly take the new necklace Ser Jackson Drake had just bought his fair lady off their hands. They were going out to buy the lady a new dress for Wayne's night, leaving the necklace under the protection of their ten hired guards.

She had waited until the dark of night came down upon the city. She had chosen to wear a black leather coat with a hood to hide her face from any witnesses. She wore black leggings and boots, and brought along her whip, which she had always thought herself well skilled with. It was a simple bull whip, only costing her a handful of copper pieces. She had trained with it in her free time, which she had plenty of once she was established enough of a bed-warmer that she need only sleep with a man every week or so.

As she vaulted from a nearby rooftop over the wall of the Drakes' small castle she eyed the lordling's carriage pulling away down the street. She climbed up to a window on the second floor and proceeded down the corridor to the main bed chambers. Once she picked the lock with a great amount of ease, the doors opened and she eyed the golden necklace sitting upon a bedside table. She snatched it in her hands and as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone back into the night.

_Ha! The fools will never even realize until it's too late to even have hope of finding the thief. They will just be chasing shadows, _Selina thought to herself as she raced across the rooftops. She could get use to this, stealing from nobles and never getting caught, _why have I not thought of this before?_ She had a long life of thieving and shadow-running ahead of her, now she just had to get back before she-.

A loose roof tile slipped from under her, causing her to lose her balance along with her feet and fall to the street below. Luckily her downward tumble was saved by a stray wagon of hay left in the alley. She disappeared into it in an explosion of hay and dust up into the air. _Dammit, how could I be such a novice on my first…_Selina was once again cut off from her thoughts as four muscular, brutish looking men emerged from the shadows.

"Well what do we have here boys? Looks like the poor little kitty took a fall," the one with the least unattractive face said aloud. An ugly scar cut itself across the mans face from his temple to his chin.

"What should we do with her ser?," another asked, grinning like a fool. This man had thick sideburns and was missing more than a few teeth.

"Ohh well look what the lucky lady has in that paw of hers, how much gold you think that will fetch in the underground market lads?," The supposed leader said noticing the necklace Selina foolishly left openly visible in her hand.

Selina stepped out of the wagon, dusting herself off, "Sorry gentlemen, but neither I nor the necklace is for sale."

"Well how about we take the necklace first, and then take our extra reward out of that sweet ass of yours," another of the thugs said stepping closer.

"_Ha_…hard path it is then," Selina kicked the scum nearest to her square in the face. She went to grab her whip from her belt, but another was upon her with unexpected speed and grabbed her arm with iron-like strength. She winced in pain as he punched her in the gut, effectively knocking her breath from her as another thug grabbed her other arm.

"Well boys, it appears we got our extra prize after all. Stuff a rag in her mouth so she doesn't scream," the leader said coldly with the most hideous of smiles across his lips.

Selina tried to fight, but her lungs were still recuperating from the strong blow she had just been dealt, and could not muster the energy yet to struggle even. _Is this truly it? Am I to just end up a man's pleasure toy again, and this time not even by choice?_

Selina could not answer herself, for she heard a thud from behind her assailants. The sound was followed by one of the most fearful and dark voices she had ever heard.

"Let the woman go," a gravelly, mysterious voice said from the shadows.

The leader turned around, "who goes there?" He was replied with a split-second shimmer of silver light as a small piece of metal jutted itself into his shoulder, causing the hulk of a man to cry out in pain.

"Who are you?!," he shouted back at the shadows in the direction the metal object had just flown from.

A man surrounded in a cape as black as night, wearing an odd, black-tinted helm with pointed horns protruding from it top stepped out of the shadows. He tilted his head down ever so slightly, only the whites of his eyes visible in the darkness of night. The men began to laugh, but Selina had a feeling they would soon regret that. Whoever this stranger was, laughable seemed one of the least fit descriptors of him. _And here I thought chivalry was truly dead to the world._


	11. Bruce Chp 5: James Chp 3: Richard Chp 3

_So from now on there will be three chapters per new post instead of two! Also, I've gotten a question or two about where the GOT characters are. I promise there will be much more GOT crossover but I wanted to keep the birth of Batman its own event and have Westoros react to his advent, not so much be there for its start. Thanks for all of the positive reviews from those that like the story as well!_

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 5

The largest one on the right walked with the ever slightest limp in his right leg, most likely an injured ankle that never fully healed. The one on the left was the first one to step forward with a cautious left foot pulling up, clearly better with his right fist than his left. The leader Bruce had just injured looked angry, and puffed up his broad chest to show his followers he was in charge still. The man behind the woman though, his eyes were wide with fear. _Good._

Bruce could feel his cape draped around him, engulfing him in its shadows. He felt the men's eyes on him, the woman's as well. He felt stronger in his armor, more powerful and menacing. He felt the symbol of a bat on his chest, as if it were burning into him, lighting a fire of determination in his soul.

"Marcus, grab him! I want to have some entertainment outta him before we dice him up for the crows," the leader shouted at the leftmost thug. The man charged Bruce, Bruce could only wryly smirk. As the man neared, he wound his right arm back for a punch, but never got to land it. As the large thug threw his punch, Bruce ducked inside of it easily, and delivered some blows of his own. First the middle of his arm, in between the muscles, stunning them and preventing him from throwing another punch with it for the time being. Next Bruce elbowed the man's thigh to cause it to spasm, preventing the man from standing again. Then three quick blows to the man's gut which effectively knocked his air from him, all of this before landing a final uppercut to Marcus' jaw. As Bruce heard the man's teeth collide as bone hit bone, Bruce knew he would not be getting back up. And as quickly as the man had charged him, he fell to the ground contorting in pain.

Bruce looked back to the remaining three bruisers through the small slits in his helm for sight. They had stopped their laughing, knowing that it was not some drunken fool they were dealing with. _Fear has found them, good._ Bruce slowly paced forward, head at a downward angle to look even more menacing. The woman's face he could not see in fullness however, the hood shrouded her upper face in darkness. Her mouth however was gaping, as if she was watching a ghost slowly coming to rob her of her soul.

"R-Rosly…you handle him!," the less then fearless leader shouted to the man to his right. The man reluctantly stepped forward, drawing a crudely molded dagger from his belt. He stabbed the blade forward, and Bruce simply ducked inside again but this time brought his heel down squarely on the man's right ankle. The man screamed in pain as if he had lost the entire foot from a bladed edge, and fell to the ground clutching it. _Two versus one now,_ Bruce thought as he continued his slow stride forward.

The leader drew his sword, a mediocrely smithed cutlass with a broken hilt. The throwing knife that Bruce had lodged in the man's shoulder was clearly taking effect. It had buried itself between the thug's shoulder and chest muscles. The man winced in pain as he tried to lift the sword above his head.

"_Ugh_, what did you do to me…I will kill you!," he roared as he charged Bruce. Bruce did not even bother stepping to the side of this attack, catching the man's downward slashing motion halfway at the hands. Bruce twisted the man's wrists, hearing a bone or two snap, and then kicked the man to the ground. The leader was whimpering on the ground like a scared child as Bruce came upon the last man, standing behind the hooded woman with a knife at her throat.

"Le-leave me alone, or the lady here gets a kiss of steel!," he shouted, attempting to sound threatening from the safety of his position behind the woman. Bruce stopped his advance, his hand hidden beneath his cape digging into one of his belt's pockets. Before the man could blink again, Bruce threw another throwing knife, landing it directly in the middle of the thug's exposed, knife wielding hand. The deviant screamed and fell back, tripping over an uneven street stone behind him and thudding to the ground. The woman collapsed, still reeling from her blow to the stomach no doubt.

Bruce stepped over to her assaulter and lifted him from the ground and threw him against the stone wall beside them. The man's eyes were wide and white with terror. His lips slowly pursed together trying to form words but finding great difficulty to do so.

"Wh-who are you?," he managed to get out of his throat.

"I am vengeance, I am the night, I am Batman!," Bruce growled, mirroring his family's words in the deep, gravelly voice he had been practicing since leaving the Palace of Whispers. He threw a hard punch to the man's chin and sent him flying to the ground. He turned back to the woman on the ground, paralyzed with awe and fear. He slowly walked over to her, and offered a hand to lift her up.

"So…uhhh…thanks," was all that she managed to say as she stood and met his gaze. Bruce lifted up the golden necklace in his hand.

"I'm guessing this does not belong to you," he asked already knowing the answer.

"Oh, _ha_…yes that. Well a girl has to eat somehow right?" Bruce could tell she had sweet-talked her way out of situations before with less willful men.

"I cannot let you keep it my lady, and I am afraid I'm going to have to turn you over to the city guard as well."

"Well if we are being literal ser, you did not see me stealing any such necklace. You merely found it in my possession after I had tried to liberate it from these scum, and you came in bravely to my rescue when they had caught me in the act," she said with a coy smile.

Bruce liked this woman, whoever she was, but he could not let her know that. "Very well, this will be your one and only free wave from justice. If I catch you again however…"

She cut him off, "I'll end up like this lot? Ohh you wouldn't do that to poor, little, defenseless me would you?" She smiled and slowly batted her eye lashes.

"No, but I hear the cells of the city's jails have lovely areas for climbing and napping for a cat burglar as lovely as yourself," he replied apathetically.

"Ohh so you think me lovely eh-?" She could not continue as they heard the sound of metal clattering as a handful of city guardsmen ran into the alley. Bruce felt a kiss on his cheek and a whisper in his ear, "See you soon, _Batman."_ When Bruce turned to face her, she had already disappeared down the nearest adjacent alley.

"Halt! Who goes there!," one of the guards shouted, a trickle of fear in his voice. Bruce turned to face them, and they all took a slow step back in unison.

"From this night on, this city is under my watch and protection. You are free to assist me, but if you brand me a criminal like the others it will not stop me and my duty," he shouted in the same low-toned voice. He threw a smoke bomb from his belt, and disappeared into the night in a cloud of smoke as if her were nothing more than an apparition.

_**James**_: Chapter 3

"I swear to the gods new and old Barken, if this is another tale of this _Batman_ you'll be on wall duty for months!," James shouted as he rounded the corner of the alley. The day before Wayne's grand feast with nobles coming into the city in extravagance and flair, and all James had done the entire morning and better part of the afternoon was clean up the mess this new stranger had caused.

"My apologies Ser, but four more smugglers have just been found tied in the alley behind one of the baker's steads," the rookie replied. "Three broken arms, one with a broken leg, a broken ankle, and another paralyzed with some form of poison off one of these."

James swiped the small piece of metal from the boy's hand for a closer inspection. It was sharp on every edge, and was unlike any throwing knife James had ever seen. It was shaped like a bat, with the middle of the blade being edged with two pointed ears and an equally sharp tail. The blades were shaped like bat wings with two sharp points on each side, the entire piece of metal no thicker than a coin. _What in the name of the Seven is this?_ Two days ago James had only his city and his family to worry about. Now, he had to worry about this damn caped crusader leaping around his city pummeling criminals where they lay.

He had heard tales from some witnesses, even his own men, of this terrifying monster of the night. He had heard recounting of it being a direbat, coming forth from the black pits of the afterlife to avenge the fallen Waynes. It had black wings that made it glide across the street stone without a sound, eyes as white and terrifying as looking into an Other's face, and movements as quick as a strike of lightning. With small claws flying out from its wings to inflict pain on those who had inflicted pain on the city. Well now James had one of these _claws _in his hand and it looked like nothing more than a simple, albeit odd, throwing knife.

_I suppose I should thank him to some small degree, but I never much cared for a man taking the law into his own hands._ As James came upon the scene, he was shocked by what he saw. Four men were chained before him, rather large and well-built with chests broader than a barrel. _How did one man take these four brutes down so easily? _One had a broken ankle, another a broken arm, one had a busted jaw and stab wound in his hand, while the last was left with what the local healer said was two broken ribs and a direly wounded sense of pride. James had come to know this man quite closely, Ralgen Hortens, a smuggler that had set up camp in Gotham. James had been trying to track them since they first came to the city over a year ago, but here this Batman had served them up on a silver platter for him like a pig roasted over the fire.

"So Hortens, I am told you were the first man to lay eyes on this _Batman._ Care to tell us what you saw?," James smirked. He had never seen a criminal with such a shade of pale white in his face.

"It was terrifying, and let out a screech like a shadow cat about to leap onto its prey. It glided to us, no sound on the stone, no legs moving, just a black shroud built of the shadows. The thing took each of us down so quickly, we could not even touch him! For he was never there! It was a ghost, of that I am sure. No man moves like that. You cannot stop him or it or whatever that creature was Gordon! For you cannot catch what does exist!," the smuggler replied with terror in his voice.

_Who is this man…_James wondered as the four were carted away to their jail cells. Despite the confusing and completely unprecedented appearance of this shadow in the night, James knew his main duty was to assure the visiting nobles' safety. _Protecting a city with boys greener than summer grass, the wonders of serving in the City Watch._

"Bullock! Are those new men we brought on with Wayne's gold ready yet?," he shouted for his second in command.

"As ready as they will be Ser. They know how to swing a sword and to stand still for hours. All four hundred of em'," the man responded as he approached James.

"Good, that is our main priority lads! Making sure the people of this city both commoners and nobles, residents and guests, are safe! Not this Batman who wants to fight crime for some shits and laughs! Now get moving to your assigned posts and tell whoever you see to follow suit! The guests have started shipping in and it is only going to get more crowded from here!," James shouted to all of his men within earshot.

_Whoever this Batman is, I will deal with him after Bruce Wayne's big night…when I don't have quite as many problems to keep me up at night._

_**Richard**__:_ Chapter 3

They had set up quickly once they arrived in Gotham the day before Bruce Wayne's welcoming festival. First the support poles were hoisted up into the air, towering over the buildings and trees. Then the tent was hoisted, a splendid red and white striped monster growing ever taller as the circus men pulled the long lines of rope out. The rafters were lifted up into the tent's canopy. Once the tent was secured, the benches for the city folk were set-up and the ropes and lines for the Flying Graysons' performance were tied up from the rafters. Dick always loved this part of the set-up, when he had to climb around the wooden rafters high above the ground and tie down the ropes he would use later to fly through the air.

The process took from afternoon until well into the dark of night. By that time the people of Gotham were beginning to return to their homes after a long day of watching the queer circus-folk work. Most of these people had likely never seen striped horses or elephants or dancing bears before. Dick remembered his first time riding an elephant, or having a staring match with a lion, or even sneaking into the striped horses' cage and trying to mount one.

Dick ran to meet his father outside the tent when he had finished with the last tight rope, but saw he was already engaged in a conversation. There was a group of them, four strangers all wearing black overcoats and trousers. Dick snuck up behind them and hid behind a stack of crates a dozen or so paces away.

"Listen ser, we are not here to harm you or your performers. Just here to help protect ya is all," he heard the strange man in the front say to his father. The man had a flat nose, and small, queer eyes, and he had an ugly scar on his left cheek. His hair thinned on the top of his head, and the legs of his trousers were speckled with mud.

"Uh-huh, protection from what exactly?," his father asked skeptically. Dick dared not look, but he imagined his father had his bushy eyebrow cocked like he always did when Dick had tried lying to him.

"Gotham is a scary place ser, and with so many nobles visiting…who knows how many nefarious persons may come crawling out from their holes," the stranger snickered.

"Well you have my thanks for your concern _ser_, but I'm fairly certain we can handle our own should any pickpockets come snooping about," his father replied adamantly.

"Ah very well, but don't say Anthony Zucco didn't warn ya! I'm a very generous and kind person, yes you'd find that for yourself if you were willing to lend an ear."

"Mhm, and I am sure this generosity would come at a cost no doubt." Dick knew his father wasn't going to fall for this stranger's tricks.

"Only a meager few gold pieces for our troubles ser, but we'd stay with you day and night," he answered. The man sounded like a street market vender trying to sell week-old fish.

"Well you have my gratitude but no thank you ser Zucco, I think we will get by just fine." _Good, now leave, _Dick thought_._

Dick saw his mother leaving the entrance of the tent fifty feet away as she turned to walk towards her husband. Dick walked out from behind the crate to his father's side, doubting any of them saw him sneak out from behind the crates since they were so focused on each other.

"Oh Dick, you're done with your chores that quick eh? These gents were just leaving," his father said, not making it sound as if it were up for debate.

"You got a lovely family here ser," Zucco said with a crooked smile as he lead his gang away.

"Who were they John?," his mother asked concerned.

"_Ah_ no one sweetling, just some dogs looking for a bone. Now Dick, what say you we get ready for tomorrow night! My son, flying in front of thousands of awe-struck people! Ah a father could not be more proud!" He laid a hand on his son's head and ruffled his thick, black hair. Dick felt happier than he could ever remember himself being.


	12. Selina Chp 4: Alfred Chp 4: Richard Chp4

_**Selina**_: Chapter 4 

_Those eyes._ She had stayed up the whole night thinking about the dark stranger that had leapt out of the shadows to save her, and his dark blue reservoirs of eyes. She had a small cut from where her assaulter's dagger had slid when he fell back, but it was a small price to pay.

_This_ _Batman_, _I wonder who is under the cape and helmet?_ He looked quite tall, a full head over most men, but still at least a head's length under the brutes that had attacked her last night. She remembered the sight as if it were burned into her eyes; the dark, cold alley, the foul-smelling and sweaty thugs, and then _him._ Could it have been the same stranger that was attacked by her girls last week? Selina was not sure.

That stranger had a beard, and some form of accent from the likes of the Free Cities. A beard was easy enough to shave off, but the accent? _Well tall, dark and handsome didn't really have much of an audible voice unless you count the sound of gravel beneath your feet._

His armor, it was metal, and yet he moved so swiftly. Metal should have slowed him down, made moving as quickly as he did impossible. It was tinted black, somehow melded so that it did not reflect light like other metals. His mouth, chin, and eyes were visible but everything else was hidden beneath that oddly shaped helm. The pointed spikes on the top of it confused Selina until he spread open his cloak and the rest of his garb was viewable.

His chest plate had a simply formed outline of a bat with its wings spread on it. The armor had a muscular chest formed into it with a shingled ridge of metal on his sides to protect his ribs. He had shoulder guards, and darkened metal on his greaves and knees. He wore gauntlets as well, but none the likes Selina had ever seen. There were three angled and spiked blades jutting out from each one as dark as the rest of his armor. He did not seem to have any mail underneath the plates, just black, hardened leather from the look of it. He carried no sword or dagger or shield. Just a belt around his waist with an assortment of pouches and other assorted gear, that was what Selina had the shortest view of. His pouches full of odd trinkets and small weapons, like those knives he threw.

She had grabbed the one from her assaulter's hand before she disappeared. She rolled it over in her fingers, the metal felt so cool and smooth to touch, but the edges were razor sharp, _fine craftsmanship_. She wondered if Batman forged his own armaments, or if he had a friend to do the work for him while he ran across rooftops. _Ha, I have a great want for some friends like those for sure._ _Perhaps this Batman has the right idea of it, since his face is hidden and he's gone before anyone can question him…no one knows who he is. He could be a plain beggar or Bruce Wayne himself…_

Selina stopped to wonder, could it be Lord Wayne? Surely the use of his family's sigil on his chest pointed to that, but she had heard he was a crippled shut-in who had yet to step out of his castle since arriving. _But I've feigned injuries before to get what I wanted…Wayne could do the same…_If Bruce Wayne truly was this Batman, he had done more for the city in two days than any noble had in his fourteen year departure. _Maybe the key is, hiding who you are. Maybe I'll forge a mask of my own. And as for Lord Wayne…perhaps I should pay him a visit at his big celebration tomorrow, and see if I can't match cane to cape._

Selina moved to her closet as her cats darted in between and under her legs and furniture to make way for her. She took out her most expensive black-leather jacket and leggings and laid them on her bed. She took out a black-leather head-wrap she had bought off a traveling maiden from across the Narrow, and fetched her sewing needle and supplies. _It's going to be a long night._

_**Alfred**__: _Chapter 4 

The staircases of the castle used to give Alfred's feet blisters and aches after walking up and down them every day. Now he could skip a few steps with ease and with a bounce in his step that should not be there at his age. Five-and-fifty years he had turned this past year, _and not getting any younger to be sure_ he jested to himself. He carried the silver serving tray with one hand and a letter received by raven this morning in the other. Alfred had stopped going to Master Bruce's bedroom to find him each morning shortly after the young man had returned and the only thing he ever found was an empty bed with no signs that it had been touched.

Instead, Alfred could always find Bruce in his new favorite place in the castle, his father's study. Whether he was having a meeting with Lucius behind locked doors, reading a scroll or tome he had returned with, or just training, Bruce could usually be found there. _Unless he is down in his cave_, Alfred always reminded himself. Alas, this morning Bruce was in fact there meeting with Lucius when Alfred used his key to open the large oak doors into the dust-filled tomb of books.

"No no, see here, if we used this arrowhead design the bolt would fly much higher than your sketch," Bruce said staring intently at the papers sprawled out over the table. His finger traced along the paper as he guided Lucius' eyes.

"Now ya see Bruce, if we used that model we'd be trading height for strength, the hooks wouldn't be able to hold when trying to support your weight-" Lucius was interrupted as he noticed Alfred coming into the study. "Mornin' Alfred, and how was your night?"

"Apparently not as interesting as a certain masked knight's. Filled with running across rooftops, striking terror into the souls of hundreds, and pummeling criminals with ease," Alfred replied wittily. "There's also been a raven from King's Landing Ser, the King rides north with plans to replace Arryn with Eddard Stark as Hand of the King. But the main talk of the streets I'm told is of this Batman and his daring forays into the night," Alfred continued with a heavy layer of sarcasm.

"Robert Baratheon plans to replace John Arryn with Ned Stark? _Haha_! He'll never get him to leave his winter fortress, Ned hates the South," Bruce replied chuckling.

"_That_ is what you took from what I said? Not that the city is more interested in your nightly escapades than news that affects the entire kingdom?" Alfred replied, losing his patience.

"Lucius, could you give us a moment," Bruce said calmly, not looking up from his parchment.

"'Course. Alfred, always a pleasure," the dark-skinned man said as he left.

"Lucius," he replied. Alfred had come to enjoy his conversations with the man Bruce had brought back with him. Lucius was a worldly man with experience in many different areas, much like himself. He certainly provided for far more interesting and entertaining conversation than any of the servants he had kept on in Master Bruce's absence. When Lucius had left and closed the doors behind him, Alfred continued, "You told me this was not about trying to win fame or glory. The only thing that kept me from sending for the maesters with word of you going mad was when you said it wasn't about you, it was for Gotham. Well you and your nightly adventures have given this Batman character of yours too much attention and it will only fall back on you!"

Bruce looked from the table to Alfred, their gazes meeting, "It _is_ about the city Alfred. Batman is a radical change to the city; it's going to cause talk, gossip, even some panic. But it is still a force of good. I don't use a sword, I don't kill, I just make the criminals that have ravaged this city for decades aware that there is someone they have to fear now. I promise old friend, I am no glory-seeker nor do I think this will blow back on me. That is what the mask is for."

"It is not a mask Master Bruce, it's just a helmet with pointed ears."

Bruce smiled with thin lips, "No Alfred, the cane, who I am by day, _that_ is the mask. To protect my identity and those I care about from getting in the way of harm. I do this because no one else can Alfred, no one else will, and I am prepared to sacrifice what is necessary to see that my calling in this world is answered. Do you understand old friend?"

"…Yes Master Bruce, I think I do," Alfred replied hesitantly. _I understand Bruce, your mask is Bruce Wayne now. Who you truly are is Batman. Since the day your parents died your face has been a mask, and the angry, willful soul inside, that is who you truly are. Batman is that soul incarnate, and the young boy I loved never returned to Gotham in the first place. _

_**Richard**_: Chapter 4

"Oh come now Dick it cannot look that horrid! Your father loves his!" Mary Grayson said to her son from outside his closed and locked door.

"Yes son listen to your mother, these look spectacular! We'll look like a merry band of flying kin for sure _Hoho_!" He chuckled through the door, and made Dick want to butt his head against the door in both embarrassment and irritation.

Dick felt foolish, the new costume his mother had sewn for their performance tonight looked ridiculous to him. It was a bright red, skin-tight tunic with matching leggings and a yellow robin in a black circle on the breast. It was accompanied by bright green boots and what looked like undergarments to wear over his leggings. "But I look like a royal fool!" he shouted through the door.

"_Haha_! Then we will be a family of flying fools together!" His father would be happy with the costume if it was the ugliest shade of pink with pale yellow trim. Dick knew the likelihood of him winning this argument was low, if possible at all.

The door unlocked as Dick moved out from behind his door and stepped into the light. His mother immediately pinched his cheek, "Ohhh my sweet you look so adorable I can hardly believe you are my son!"

"Oh come now Mary, he is a flying Grayson through and through. But yes he does look like an adorable little pup doesn't he?" John Grayson snatched his son up in his thick arms and gave him a hug with such strength and love that Dick found it impossible to remain mad at him.

"Fine I will wear it, are you happy?" Dick said with a frown on his face.

"Ha yes! Now go run along and find ser Haly, you would think the bloody ringleader of the circus would be around for his own show!," his father said as he accompanied his wife over to the juggler's wagon.

Dick set off at a jog, running around stilt walkers, ducking under wagons, vaulting over crates and barrels. By the time he reached the back end of the tent he still had seen no sign of Ben Haley, the circus leader, but he did spy something that worried him. Dick could swear he saw one of the black coated strangers his father had spoken to last night leaving the back end of the tent. Right as he spotted the stranger however, a wagon pulled right in front of him. By the time the wagon had pulled away the man was gone, if he was ever there. Dick decided it was just his mind playing tricks on him, and continued on his way to find the ring leader.

He ran into the main tent and still did not find ser Haley, but he did find an older gentleman standing in the center of the main ring gazing up. The curious stranger was clearly staring up in awe at the sheer height of the tent. Dick slowly approached him, "Can I help you ser?"

The stranger looked down, he had a bald head with silver hair on the sides of his scalp. A finely kept mustache lay across his upper lip that was nearly pure black in coloration. Dick noticed the bat of Wayne on his breast pocket. "Oh perhaps my young lad, I am looking for ring master Haley. Is he around by any chance?," the stranger asked with a smile.

"No ser I cannot seem to find him anywhere either."

"Ah, shall we look together then? Four eyes do make better work than two after all."

They made leave towards the exit to the tent, the man walked slowly and carefully, examining his surroundings with great care. After a minute of quiet he asked, "My name is Alfred Pennyworth by the way, I am the head servant of Lord Wayne. He sent me down to see if everything was ship-shape for tonight. First we plan to direct the city folk here for what will certainly be some grand and spectacular entertainment, and then up to the castle for feasting and celebrating. But none of that matters now, tell me dear boy, what might your name be?"

"Richard Grayson ser, son of John and Mary Grayson. First of my name."

"Ah! I thought that robin on your chest looked familiar, well how has Gotham treated you thus far? I hope your stay has seen you and your family kindness," he replied as he watched the elephants being washed by a few circus hands. The elephant trumpeted in joy and spurted water up into the air which rained down on the men scrubbing it.

"Yes ser. My father said the city had a cloud of sorrow and gloom over it, but I have yet to see any such thing," Dick replied watching this servant examine his home so intricately.

"_Ha!_ He said that did he? Well I can hardly blame the man I suppose, the city does have its more than gracious share of bad luck and misfortune," the man said chuckling.

"You find the misfortune of your city funny ser?" he asked confused. How could this nice old man find suffering laughable?

"Oh no no dear boy, you misunderstand me. I do not find the plight of this city funny, quite the opposite in fact. During my master's absence I spared what gold I could to help the city guard or workers of the city, but it was never enough. Sometimes, people need something more than gold or work to make them happy or help them find good fortune. Sometimes, they need something as simple as a circus to take their mind off their day to day lives for a while. And sometimes, they need something powerful to give them hope. A symbol, for something greater," Alfred replied sincerely.

"Are you talking about this Batman ser? I heard some of the jugglers and animal tamers telling stories they had heard from the city streets." The men had told fantastical stories of a man that was more beast than man flying around the city in the dead of night. Saving the innocent, cursing the guilty, and spreading fear throughout the dark corners of the city.

"Ah, so you have heard of our new legend in the making? Hmm I can't quite say for certain yet my boy. The Batman could prove to be either a great blessing upon this city, or a terrible curse," Dick noticed the man looked rather troubled as he said this. Alfred's brow was furrowed and he was looking straight ahead, but had the sort of gaze where he was looking through everything he saw as if it weren't even there.

"What do you think will decide it? If he's a blessing or a curse?" Dick was incredibly curious for his response.

"Hm, well my boy, I think that is up to the man beneath the mask," Alfred said meeting eyes with the young boy. Then he turned out to the path leading to the town, "But ah, I do believe that is ser Haley right there by the entrance. My apologies dear boy but I must depart. I'm sure we shall speak again."

"I look forward to it ser Alfred Pennyworth," Dick liked this man, of that much he was certain.


	13. Selina Chp 5: Richard Chp 5: Bruce Chp6

_Alright, so I accidentally uploaded these chapters last week and skipped the three that were supposed to be uploaded, so I uploaded Selina 4, Alfred 4, and Richard 4 to correct the problem! Enjoy!_

_**Selina**_: Chapter 5 

_Well, let us see how well the whore can blend in with nobles._ Selina thought to herself as she followed the flood of people up towards the giant red and white tent sitting atop the crest of the hill. She was wearing a dark violet dress with a green scarf draped around her neck loosely and a silver necklace she had _found_ in some nobleman's bedroom. _Heh, in a double locked safe_ she reminded herself with silent pride.

As she made her way through the gaping mouth of the massive tent, she followed the steady stream of better dressed people branching off from the less extravagantly dressed. As she made her way up the steps to an open seat she spotted, a man bumped into her backing up from finishing a conversation. Despite Selina planning on trying to act closer to a noble lady tonight, she lost herself in a quick moment of irritation.

"Well excuse me _ser,_ but I do believe when a lady is walking, true gentleman should give caution and not stomp around like an elephant. If you wish to act like one then you could go out back and joi-" she cut herself off mid-sentence as the man turned. Selina heard the sound a cane makes when it _thuds_ against hard wood beneath it. Bruce Wayne was actually much more handsome than Selina pictured him to be. He was rather tall, had a defined jaw, and eyes that froze Selina where she stood. He had a face chiseled from marble as well. Selina realized she was still holding her breath so she refrained from further insulting the richest man in the city, _and the star of the party._

"Ah I am incredibly sorry my lady. With this cane I am unfortunately not as vigilant or cautious as I once was. Forgive me lady…?" Bruce Wayne said with a gracious smile. _Even his teeth are perfect, may the Others take him. _

Tonight Bruce Wayne was dressed in a rich black doublet with gold trim and a golden, flapping bat on the breast of his matching black jacket. His shoes were shined, his trousers perfectly straight, and his dark, black hair combed back. He looked perfectly noble, and not at all like the bearded, rugged looking traveler she had heard of from alley gossip.

"Kyle, Selina Kyle," she replied without thinking. _Fool! Why did you use your name, ugh now it's out there and never able to be taken back. Now he knows who you are and-._ Before she could finish yelling at herself internally, her aggravator asked her, "Would you grace me with the pleasure of sitting beside me Lady Kyle? I have a hard time focusing on dancing bears and men walking on wooden poles and could use some entertaining company." _Damn it all, including that shiny, white smile of his._

"It would be my pleasure my lord," she said with a small, curt smile.

She followed him up the wooden stairs of the stands to the center stands the wealthiest of lords sat. As they neared their seat, a voice called out from behind.

"I had to see it with mine own eyes to make sure it was true. So men truly can return from the land of the dead."

Selina and Bruce turned to see their caller approaching them with an eager pace. He had thin black eyebrows standing above his almost purely black eyes. He was older, as his shoulder length black hair had streaks of silver running through it coming to the point of a widow's peak on his forehead. The man wore a red doublet with matching leather gloves and boots, a red sun with a gold sun piercing through it blazed on his chest.

Bruce smiled and spoke, "Prince Oberyn, I was not aware you had arrived to the city."

Oberyn Martell smiled, "Yes, well, if I could not sneak up on a cripple I would fear for my reputation as a warrior."

_Well he certainly is quick of tongue, quite a fashion of greeting a lord that has just returned home. _Selina had heard of Prince Oberyn but had never laid eyes on the man. His renown on the battlefield was legendary, as his tactics were crueler than those of most men. While most men felt using a simple blade was enough to kill a foe, Oberyn Martell felt that a thin layer of poison on all of his blades would be a necessary touch. His poisons were not only deadly but capable of drawing death out for days, and making the pain excruciating for any unfortunate enough to be nicked by one of the Prince's edges. It is how Oberyn received the rather fitting title of the Red Viper of Dorne.

Bruce chuckled, "Yes I suppose a viper would lose a great deal of renown if he couldn't scare a flightless bat. What has drawn you from your lovely Dornish hills Prince Oberyn? I find it hard to believe you would travel such a long distance for only a glimpse of a man returned from being seemingly dead."

The prince smiled, the aged lines in his face stretching at his lips' corners. "Your father and I met once or twice in his lifetime. We did not agree on a great deal as you can imagine I am sure, but he was a good man. If it were me, I would have found the killers and hung them from iron bars through their ankles and let them bleed to the street below from their heels."

Selina's eyes widened at the sudden gruesome detail. _Well he is unlike any royalty I have seen._

Prince Oberyn turned to Selina and smiled, "And who is your lovely friend my lord?"

Bruce returned the smile as he turned to Selina, "This is Lady Kyle of Gotham. She has agreed to be my company for the evening."

Oberyn gave a perplexing smile and kissed Selina's knuckles, "You are a rare beauty in a city of eye sores my lady. Speaking of company, I should best return to my dear Elia before she decides it best to hang me by the ankles. My lord, I will assuredly see you at the feast. I have brought a Dornish wine that most lords would tempt fighting me to have but a sip of."

Bruce chuckled, "I can hardly wait my fork-toothed friend."

The prince gave a hard laugh at the comment, gave Bruce a strong pat on the shoulder, and returned down the stairs to his seat. _This city seems to be full of curious nobles and lords._

Bruce led Selina to his two satin seats saved in the middle of the stands, directly across from the center ring. _Well living high and mighty certainly has its perks. _The man's limping made him a hard leader to follow however, as his pace was as slow as a cow's.

As they sat, Bruce asked her, "So tell me my lady, what is it that you do for a living."

_Ha, what kind of living would my life be branded as? _"Ohh I'm but a simple florist, growing, selling, and trimming flowers," she lied with a sincere smile across her lips.

"You must make a lot of people happy with that life. Giving young lovers flowers to gift each other with, young boys to show their mother that they love them, young girls to wrap around their head like the crown of a queen," he said looking out to the ring.

_Is this man a saint? Does he do no wrong?_ "Yes, many people to help, many smiles to see." _Or just my own rather, for as long as I'm smiling who gives a damn what other people are doing with their mouths._ "So tell me my lord, where did you travel? You were gone for quite a few years."

His eyes turned from the stands to meet hers. He smiled and said, "Ohh, across the Narrow, to cities and lands you could only dream of I'm sure. But enough about me and my boring past, tell me about yours."

_Well if that wasn't an aversion of conversation then I still have my maidenhood. Fine, by your rules then Lord Wayne. _"Me? I am simply a poor girl raised by parents to try and earn an honest living this life my lord. Giving beauty out to the city is the least I can do." She saw the ring leader walking out into the center of the ring, causing a giant roar from the thousands of eager viewers in the crowd. She didn't even notice Bruce lean in right to her ear.

He whispered at a level of volume only she could have ever heard, "Tell me Lady Kyle, are you as good at picking flowers as you are lying through that beautiful little smile of yours?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped some, _how did he…? _She turned to face him and ask, but he was already applauding and roaring on the ring leader with the rest of the crowd. _Entertaining company indeed._

___**Richard**_: Chapter 5

The lion tamers were the first to perform. They led their golden beasts out into the large cage laid in the center of the arena with whips and loud cries. The creatures roared and clawed as the lion tamers ran them through their routine. The largest male's mane danced like a tawny fire as he stalked around the cage leading the rest of his pride.

Once the lions had left and the giant iron cage taken down, the jugglers, stilt walkers, and dancing bears were lead out in a parade around the perimeter of the giant ring. The walkers towered over the crowd and threw out little fragments of exotic silks and multicolored streamers into the masses. The jugglers tossed up their wooden pins or poles into the air in groupings of four, five, or even six. The bravest few juggled knives and daggers with jewel encrusted hilts. Bright flashes of silver reflected in quick glimpses as the twirling blades reflected the grand illumination of the hundreds of torches laid throughout the arena.

Then the elephants were led in as the crowd gasped in awe at the colossal creatures' grand size. They had vibrantly colored blankets draped across their backs with long golden tassels dangling at the corners. Golden rings and ornaments littered their ivory tusks and reflected the torchlight even more beautifully than the jugglers' blades. The behemoths would raise their trunks up to the sky in unison and trumpet making the first few rows of commoners jump back in fear. Dick always found it funny how entranced regular folk were with the large creatures. _They should try doing back flips on top of one, let alone try riding one._

Finally the fire breathers entered the arena and began blowing their flames up into the sky. They wore beautifully detailed vests and loose-fitting djini pants from across the narrow sea. Likenesses of dragons, chimeras, and other fantastical beasts were tattooed into their skin. Their breaths wound together in twisting pillars and intertwining rings of bright orange streams. Dick always thought the men looked like dragons in human skins as the fire erupted from their mouths.

The _Flying Graysons _was the last act of the night to perform. Dick climbed the rope ladder up to the wooden planked rafters high above the crowd. As Dick stood on the edge of his stage towering over the arena, he felt alive. It was his turn to perform, his time to fly.

He looked across the large, gap of open air to his parents opposite him on the far side of the tent. They smiled and waved as the crowd quieted and ring leader Haley shouted from the middle of the ring. "Ladies and Gentlemen! The hour is at hand for us to look on in awe as the world's greatest acrobatic family performs death-defying stunts right before your eyes! They have soared in Highgarden, they've dumbfounded the people of Golden Grove, and they flew with wings of gold in King's Landing! People of Gotham! I give you, the Flying Graysons!"

The crowd roared as Dick leapt out and grabbed the bar hanging in front of him and began the show. He soared through the air and flipped and twirled as he jumped to the next bar. He loved the rush of wind through his hair and the feeling of anxiety and excitement his stomach flurried with when he leapt from one bar to the next. As he neared the other side of the tent, his mother jumped out to join him. They passed each other in the air as they jumped to each other's now vacant bars. The crowd erupted into cheers as they each successfully grasped the wooden pole dangling more than one hundred feet in the air.

Soon his father took to the air, as the three robins of Grayson flew above the ground in unison. Dick leapt from his bar and locked arms with his mother as she dangled from hers by her legs. Soon he was riding his father's shoulders as the hulk of a man swung from his bar with one hand grasping it and another holding onto his son.

Dick looked down to watch the waves of multicolored dots blur beneath him. The crowd blended together into one giant sea of color. That was another thing Dick loved about being in the circus. He relished the sight of the blurred tapestry of people unfold beneath him as if it were an exotic rug from the Free Cities.

After a dozen or so forays across the open air, their grand finale was drawing closer as Dick jumped from his mother's legs to the wooden stage on the leftmost side of the tent. The roaring of the crowd was deafening, and Dick savored every moment of it. He gazed on in awe as his mother and father danced across the air in a way no other husband and wife could. The way they moved was like two birds courting each other as they flew in parallel through the skies.

He looked down to Bruce Wayne's seat of honor, seeing nothing but a black spot where the young lord should have been. The nobles all appeared as vibrant specks of red, blue, gold, silver, violet; while the city folk sat around them on the ground as dots of brown, green, yellow, and black. Dick returned his gaze to his parents, and what he saw made his eyes widen with horror.

At first he did not see his parents falling, or even hear the crowd gasp in unison; he just saw the rope falling from the rafters. His stomach sank inside of him as he knew what was coming but for a moment tried to pretend as if he did not. His skin turned to ice, his lungs locked in their air, his blood ran cold like a river in the North. He collapsed to his knees on the platform, tears running down his face in steady little streams.

___**Bruce**_**:** Chapter 6

Bruce's mind stopped thinking, stopped running, or even having the ability to do so. He did not think of the well dressed, wealthy looking woman next to him who just a week past had been a street whore fighting him. He did not think about Lucius and if he was working on what they had planned at this very moment. He did not think about Gotham, its plague of crime, Batman, any of it. All Bruce's mind could focus on was the pair of bloodied bodies lying before the crowd at the center of the ring. The look on the boy's horrified face up on a wooden platform; tears streaming down his cheeks and his mouth open in screams of pain and anguish, but Bruce could not hear any of it. He could not hear the crowd gasping or screaming, he could not hear the boy, he could not even hear his own breathing.

_Am I still breathing?_ Bruce could not find the strength to check. It was as if time had slowed around him to but a crawl. He looked around him, the noblemans' faces frozen in horror, the commoners' legs frozen as they tried to stand, even Selina's eyes were frozen wide and her mouth aghast. Bruce's eyes returned to the boy, high above them. _That face, I know that face._ He did not know the boy personally, but he did know the look of a young boy who had lost his entire world in the flash of an instant.

Bruce began to rise on his own two feet, before somehow remembering he was playing the role of a cripple and reached for his cane. Selina hadn't noticed, her eyes locked on the bodies of the Graysons. Alfred stepped to his side immediately, trying to mask his emotional torture after watching another boy lose the two people he loved most. "What do you need Ser?" His voice cracked slightly on the word "need."

"My _suit_ Alfred, I need my _suit_," with that he turned and limped down the aisles, avoiding the frightened city-folk fleeing the tent in droves. Alfred followed him dutifully. "Ser I don't think this is the proper time for your _suit_. It won't bring the Graysons back and it will _not_ help that young boy."

As they passed under the main entrance to the tent, people rushing past them in a mob, Alfred stopped and stood his ground. He grabbed Bruce by the shoulder and turned him back around but before he could say anything Bruce growled, "_Nothing_ will help that boy! Not me or you or all the gold in the world! I have an odd feeling about this in my gut Alfred, this circus has never had a fall like this in its many years on the road. _I've checked!,_" Bruce said shouting louder over the course of his words.

"Master Bruce, Batman cannot bring this boy's parents back, and neither can you," Alfred said regretfully. Bruce gazed into his eyes for a few moments longer before turning.

"Ask the ringleader what he plans to do with the boy now that the Flying Graysons are no more. If he says anything you don't agree with or don't like for the boy, tell him we will take him into our home and he can live with us," Bruce said as he limped down the hill, leaving Alfred alone in a herd of people all pouring out of the tent and back to the city.

It took Bruce a while to even make it halfway back to the castle while feigning a limp. As soon as he hit a back alley where he feared no one seeing him, he would sprint to the next street in hopes of quickening his pace. As soon as he reached the edge of the woods he lifted the cane and sprinted to the hidden entrance to the cave. He ran into the shadowy hole leading deep into the ground and remembered the way to get back to his second home. _Right left left straight right left_, he repeated in his head at every intersection of tunnels. A man could get lost down here easily if he did not know the way.

He reached the massive open den of bats in good time and found Lucius wrapping up work in his corner of rock. "Lucius, there's been a change of plan. Is it finished?" Lucius shuttered at the unexpected voice in the dark, lonesome cave.

"I, uh, I suppose it's ready for a test in the field, mind me asking what happened?" he responded curiously.

As Bruce finished dressing himself in his darkened armor and placed the pointed helm on his head he replied sorrowfully, "I fear the Graysons have been murdered."

He did not look at the expression on the dark-skinned man's face, only grabbed the item he needed from his hands and mounted his horse. He kicked it into a gallop as he returned out the way he had come and returned to the city. Near an hour had passed since the Graysons fell so he suspected the tent should be emptied out of the city-folk by now. The tent would no doubt have a good number of city guards there inspecting the area, with Ser Gordon leading them. That is why Bruce needed the tool Lucius had been working on so intently these past few days.

The _grappling shot_ Lucius had named it, his crossbow design modified. It was lightweight with a light, tightly coiled, but above all strong metal line capable of supporting Bruce's weight as he climbed it. He would use the item to climb to the top of the tent without being noticed by the guards.

As he neared the back of the tent, he saw a few guards finishing their rounds and returning to the front. Bruce had maybe a total of five minutes until they returned. He left his mount in the woods, and crept up to the tent before firing the grappling shot up to the nearest colossal support pole piercing out from the tent. It reached the pole and wrapped around a few times before the metal hooks jutting out from the arrowhead clung to the taught metal line. _Impressive reach, I will need to thank Lucius when this night is done,_ Bruce thought as he tugged the line to make sure it was secure.

He climbed his way up along the tent, expecting no guards to look up and notice the slight bulge his feet gave as he braced them against its thick, tarp skin. When he made it to the top, he slowly lowered himself to the rafters ten feet below through the circular gap around the thick support pole.

He walked across the wooden planks of the rafters soundlessly; making his way to the place where the broken lines the Graysons had fallen from was tethered. He inspected the ropes and was disappointed with what he saw. He was right; the line had been tampered with. When most lines snapped, both ends were pulled as the rope tried to hold together. This line had no such stretching, only a flattened end where a knife had been at work. Bruce looked around and found a knife lying half on the wooden plank, half over the open air. Whoever had cut the line had left in such a scared rush that they had forgotten their murderous tool. _Now to find the sorry soul, and make him understand what pain truly is._


	14. Alfred Chp 5: James Chp 4: Richard Chp 6

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 5

The boy looked beyond terrified, as if he would never be happy again. It was not the first time the Dornishman had seen this look chiseled in a boy's face. _Although I do hope it is the last._

Bruce had instructed him to find the ring leader of the circus and ask what was to become of the boy. If Alfred disliked the man's plan, he would take the young Grayson back to Wayne Castle with him. The task was impossible however, as frightened, fleeing city folk pushed past him in waves trying to leave the sorrowful scene.

As Alfred fought his way against the stream of people back up the hill, he eventually arrived back at the entrance of the colossal tent. When he walked inside he found it mostly barren, save for a ring of circus folk crowded around the horrible scene in the center of the arena. Alfred took a deep breath to steady his nerves before continuing on. _Only another hour Pennyworth, then you can curl up in front of the fire and read tales with wonderful endings as you slowly descend into sleep._

He walked slowly but determinedly over to where the crowd had gathered. As he pushed past the strong men, slender jugglers and scarred beast tamers he found the boy he was looking for at the crowd's center. He was laid out over his father's body, an outstretched hand holding his mother's hand. Tears flowed from his eyes and muffled sobs of grief and agony escaped his throat as he buried his head into his father's chest.

Alfred remembered when he had come upon this same scene fifteen years ago. It was raining then, and Young Master Bruce was kneeling on the ground before his parents' bodies, head turned down to the ground. He wasn't crying though, Ser James Gordon said the boy had not cried since he had first came upon the scene. Alfred turned his gaze to Bruce as Gordon spoke, only being able to focus on the boy's sunken shoulders and head. He looked more defeated than any of the lords that had to bend at the knee to Aegon and his dragons. Alfred went over to him, solemnly saying, "come Master Bruce, there is nothing more we can do here."

The boy did not look up from his parents, but complied and slowly stood. Alfred guided him home to Wayne Castle. As Alfred looked up at the keep's walls and towers, it looked all the darker of a place for a young boy to grow up in. When they had passed through the main doors, Alfred led Bruce back to the young master's room. As Alfred took off his and the boy's overcoats, Bruce's eyes never left the fire in the hearth. His eyes stared unmoving, watching the flames dance about on the logs. Alfred sat down, watching the young boy stand there determinedly looking into the fire.

"Master Bruce, you can't bring them back…" was all he could manage to say.

"No I can't Alfred…but it's my fault they're dead…"

Alfred stood from his chair and walked over to the boy's side, as he knelt down he turned Bruce to face him. "No, no my dear boy, it was nothing you did."

Bruce's eyes began to tear up, "If I didn't get scared, we never would have left our seats. We'd still be watching the play, and they…they'd still…" The walls finally came crashing down in a flood of tears and wailing as the young master finally let himself accept his loss. Alfred quickly hugged the boy, locking his arms around him in an embrace he would not even let the Others take him from.

"_It is going to be alright Master Bruce…_I don't know how yet, but I assure you it will be," he caringly told the young lord crying in his arms.

Bruce cried for only a few minutes before he sniffled back his last tear and pulled back from his loving servant. "I know Alfred, because I am going to _change_ this," he said surprisingly willfully and definitively.

Alfred looked puzzled, "But how Master Bruce…? You can't bring them back, nothing you do can change the past my dear boy."

"I know Alfred, I am going to change the future, of me and this city. I don't know how yet, but I know that is what my destiny in life is."

That conversation felt like a lifetime ago to Alfred, and yet here again he must face another boy losing his parents before their time. _I don't know how many times I can watch or even stomach this in my lifetime._

He slowly approached the Graysons, two lying dead, the sole survivor of their family spread on top of them. He touched the boy's shoulder as he knelt down, the young boy's body jolted at the unexpected physical contact. He looked up at the Dornishman, the orphan's teary eyes locking with his. "Come child, there is nothing more you can do here."

Dick looked back to his parents' bodies before returning his gaze to Alfred and slowly nodding. He took Alfred's hand and let him help bring him to his feet, and leaned against Alfred's waist as they departed the crowd. The onlookers silently parted, creating a pathway for the two of them. Ring leader Haley stood at the end of the row of people waiting for them.

"What do you plan to do with the boy?" Alfred asked him when they had passed by the rest of the circus folk.

"I…I don't know in truth. We can bring him with us, we might be able to find more trapeze swingers when he head further south, but for now, I don't know…" the short, older man replied.

"Then he shall stay in the keep of Lord Wayne as his esteemed guest and perhaps ward at some future date. I do not think a young boy traveling around from city to city after suffering something so painful is what is best for him," Alfred said, not making it sound like a question.

"I _uh_…very well ser, is that what you want Dick?" Haley said slowly to the boy.

Dick did not look away from the ground, just gave a slow nod. Alfred figured the boy would agree to anything just to get away from this place and the eyes stabbing into his back from his circus family.

"Come my boy, let us go," Alfred said leading him out the rear entrance to the tent. He knew he would undoubtedly run into the city guard were he to go the other way and thought the young Grayson could use a reprieve before being subjugated to their questioning.

"To where…?" Dick asked after a few minutes silence.

Alfred looked down to him with a tender smile, "Home."

_**James**_: Chapter 4 

"Well where did the damn servant take him to? Back to Wayne Castle?!" Gordon shouted at one of his men.

"Y-yes Ser, Haley said that Lord Wayne seems to be planning to take the boy in as his ward rather than let him continue traveling alone," the man said fearfully.

_I work with cowards, afraid of not only me but a rumored shadow in the night as well, ugh the joys of wearing this badge. _Gordon glanced quickly at the silver badge of leader of the City Watch on his right breast, and then to his family's sigil, the pointing hunting hound on his left. _Gods give me strength._

He had been on the Wayne Castle walls preparing his men for the feast when he was told of the Graysons' deaths. He left half the men that were stationed on the wall but took the other hundred back with him and left them scattered along their path to keep any panicking under control. When he had finally gotten to the top of the hill, Lord Wayne's head servant had taken the boy with him back to the stronghold of his castle.

There were no real questions to ask the boy, not that he would be able to respond anyways. James remembered the way a young Bruce Wayne could only stare at him wordlessly, as if James wasn't even there in front of him. _Why does this city have so many damn parents leaving behind scared, lonely orphans?_ He knew the city was cruel and unforgiving, but even these odds seemed to be unjustly malicious.

He knew the deaths appeared as just plain accidents. Ropes did snap sometimes after all, but something did not feel right in James' gut. Surely they would have checked for weak rope, and replaced it should they find it. The Graysons had done this performance countless times before, but how did they fail this time? In any other city, Casterly Rock, Highgarden, this occurrence would have lived and died as an accident. _In Gotham though, there is no such commodity as an accident. _

A shout woke James from his inner ponderings, "Ser! We found someone trying to sneak into the tent from the rear!" James turned to face the guard, "Take me to him."

The man wore a dark, black overcoat with black gloves and dark, muddied trousers. His face was long and gaunt, and his eyes seemed sunken back into his head. He looked terrified. _Good, that will make this easier._

"So tell me ser, what are you doing sneaking into my restricted area?" He asked the younger man lightly.

"I uh, left my pouch of coins in the stands when I rushed from the arena after the Graysons fell Ser. Terrible, terrible luck it was," he said, the black of his eyes growing in panic.

"Aye, and when did they fall _ser_?" James asked.

"I, uh, they fell about half an hour past Ser. Maybe an hour," he replied. It did not give James much verbally. Everyone in the city most likely knew what had happened at this point, just from observing the rush of people back down the hill. The man blinking rapidly and sweating as if he were tied to the sun however, that told James something.

"And where were you sitting _exactly,_" James was close to cornering him now.

"In the grandstands, with the rest of the city folk Ser."

"Yes, but where? Next to _who?_" He was on the verge of breaking, James could see it in his eyes.

"I _uhh_ was next to the baker and that Lady Florence and _uhh_ was in the right most corner of the stands Ser!" The man's voice was cracking consistently now.

"_How did you kill them? Did you cut the line? Who did it? Was it you?!"_ James suddenly shouted at the man. Even the two guards holding him shuddered, but the black coated stranger looked as if he had nearly pissed himself.

"It wasn' me! I was only supposed to get the knife back! We couldn' risk anyone findin' it! He cut the line earlier this afternoon, before anyone would even notice! I swear I didn' do it on the Seven or the old gods I did not do it!" The man broke down into tears.

Gordon leaned into the man until his mouth was less than an inch from the criminal's ear. "_Give me a name, _or I promise you…I'll throw you into the darkest cell I have in my jails." He whispered with such a threatening tone he was pretty sure the man did piss himself this time.

"T-tony Zucco Ser, he's the one in charge and the one that cut the lines so they'd break with enough weight…"

James stepped back, "Thank you son. Men, take him away. Lock him up until I know what to do with him." As his men dragged the stranger away screaming, he heard a soft thud behind him. Before he turned, he looked up to the bright, full moon and stars, "I was wondering when you would come to visit me. I'm guessing you have the knife too eh?"

He heard a reply from somewhere behind him in the shadows, "Yes, but I need that name he just gave to you."

James swallowed slowly, and turned around. Before him was a man who he had still somewhere deep-inside believed was just a rumor. Before him, was the Batman.

_**Richard**_: Chapter 6

The walk from the circus tent to Wayne Castle was the longest walk of Richard Grayson's life. Lord Wayne's servant Alfred at his side made him feel less alone in this world to some degree, but was nowhere near enough to warm the loneliness in his heart. His parents were dead, and he was now an orphan.

The castle was tall, not as high as the circus tent reached, but still impressively high. There were towers and pointed roofs, the castle wall reached at least thirty feet into the air, but to Dick it just looked foreboding. Dick could finally see the shroud of gloom his father had told him about, and it hung over this castle.

He was not sure what he wanted to do more at this point, leave this city with the circus to never set eyes on it again, or stay in this castle, curled up by the fire crying every night. It was one of the few thoughts he could pass through his head without risking breaking down. _Just wait until you get inside the castle, then you can lay by the fire and cry until you flood the dreary place._ The thought gave Dick the strength to make it past the castle walls and main doors, and up into some guest room Alfred led him to.

He wanted nothing but to be alone, but the servant would not leave. When the servant finally did leave after helping Dick settle in he was relieved. Now he could cry without anyone seeing him be weak and scared. But within a minute he heard a knock at the door, Dick barely had the chance to tear up. The door opened, and Alfred poked his head back in.

He walked into the room in a silk shirt and matching leggings with a book in his hand. He settled himself down in the chair beside the fire. Dick was laying on the bed provided for him, a graciously large bed even for a guest. It had dark blue silk sheets and pillows, with golden trim borders. He was about to cry into the pillows until morning came, but now he felt foolish to in front of the old man.

"You can cry if you want to young Ser, I am not here to judge. You would not be the first young boy I've watched cry over lost loved ones, but I swear to the Seven I hope you are the last," the servant said, not looking up from his book. Dick crawled out of bed and over near the fire. "Why don't you change into those silk dressings over on the bedside table my boy?"

Dick walked back to the table, inspecting the black, silk bed-dressings folded and placed on the table. He slowly changed into them, the feeling of silk felt smooth on his skin. He slowly trudged back to the chair pulled up across from Alfred beside the fire, and slid into it.

"There we are young ser, now I will tell you what I want to do more than anything else right now. I want to sit here and read my book, like I do and have done every night since before Master Bruce lost his parents. Do you know why lad?" he asked looking up at the boy.

"No ser…" he managed to say albeit it quietly.

"Ah good you have found your voice, but I read young Master Richard because whether I have had a great day or a terrible, strenuous one, reading gives me a sense of normalcy. All of these years I served the Waynes, the years I was alone in this gloomy castle, and even now with my Master returned, reading gives me something constant to do before bed. Master Bruce never found a sense of normalcy after he lost his parents, so he resulted to leaving for fourteen years. Do you want to do that Master Richard? Travel the world in solitude never letting go of your past, or would you rather look towards your future?" Dick thought these words over. _Can I do that? Am I strong enough to handle being alone for a decade…? _Living alone for years, no loving or even familiar faces around him, the thought made Dick feel _sorry_ for Bruce.

"No…I'm miserable now, but I want to be able to be happy and help other people again. Like before…" the boy said still gazing into the fire.

"What are the words of your family my boy?"

"_Spread your wings and fly,"_ the boy replied.

"And what do you make of these words? What meaning did your parents give them?" Alfred seemed curious to know the answer. His eye brow was cocked and his fingers had moved to his chin.

"My parents told me that they mean we need to find our calling in this world, and take flight to achieve it. That the robin of our house is to inspire love and hope, and we spread it by entertaining people and making them laugh," he said turning back to Alfred. _But how can I bring love and hope to other people when I am without both?_

"_Ha_, those are very warm words to hear Master Richard. Do you know the words of the house of Wayne? _We are the night_. While Master Bruce's lordfather always told him that it meant sometimes that which works in the darkness is what can best serve the light, I disagree. I think it means we are our own darkness. Whether you are a king, outlaw, maester, or orphan, we all are burdened with our own shadows and demons. I believe _we are the night_ means that in order to become who you were meant to be, you must face your darkness. Now I ask you Master Richard, if you wish to leave with the circus or stay here with Master Bruce and I, for I'm told your parents had no siblings or living kin…are you prepared to face your darkness?" Alfred watched as the boy looked around the room, to the fire for a few minutes, and then finally back to him.

"I am not…but I will be…and when I am ready, I want to do it here. I cannot stay with the circus, I know that. It was my life, my whole life, but now with my parents gone…it is time to start the next chapter of my life…and that is not something that I can do beneath that tent." Dick did not know if staying in Gotham was the best choice possible for him to take, but it was leagues better than staying with the circus. Being reminded of his lost and broken family every single day was not something Dick cared to experience.

"Very good Master Richard, I am pleased to hear you will be staying with us. Would you like to hear a story? My book has many of them," Alfred said opening it slowly with a smile.

"I want to hear a story, but not of Bran the builder or of the Dragon King, I want to hear one about Batman," Dick replied sincerely.

"But my dear boy…the Batman has only just appeared a few nights ago, I wouldn't know where to start a story or even continue it on to…" Alfred had not expected that particular request.

"Make one up then," the boy said managing a small smile. His eyes were puffy and red, the open air stung at them, but Dick tried his hardest not to cry. Batman was strong, he was fearless, it gave Dick hope that someday he could be the same.

Alfredlooked pensive for a moment before saying, "Very well Master Richard. Our story begins on a dark, cold night like tonight. A young boy had lost everything he had ever loved, and was both fearful of the world…and angry at it…"


	15. Bruce Chp 7: Selina Chp 5: Bruce Chp 8

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 7

Ser James Gordon showed signs of stress across his face. His light orange hair had dulled to light gray on the sides of his head, while his eyes had thin lines under them indicating years of stress. This was the first time Bruce had actually seen Gordon since that night fifteen years ago when the man comforted him as a fearful, scared boy. If there was any hint of fear in the man now, he did not show it.

Gordon thought for a moment, and mulled Bruce's words over. "And if I give you this name, what then? Do you kill him? What about any other thug in your path?" The man had good reason to doubt Bruce's intentions; he was dressed in dark armor while hiding his face after all.

"Have I killed yet?" he asked Gordon in his gravelly voice.

"No, but you've only been around a few days; happy three day anniversary I suppose. But I have no idea what you plan to do with the man whose name I have, or any other names I'd give you. You could be a killer, not that that matters in a kingdom like ours," Gordon said looking Bruce up and down.

"That is why it matters most. I do not kill because I am not like them. I am not some mindless thug looking for gold, or some arrogant knight seeking fame. I am a man on a mission, and I will complete that mission whether you give me the name or not," he replied. He could see this had violated Gordon's perception of Batman in the expression on his face. Gordon furrowed his brow and looked down to the ground.

"And I suppose that that thought helps you sleep at night. That you aren't like the other men of Westoros? You can keep your head above the filth and corruption? Is that what you're telling me? I have yet to see a truly incorruptible man, but I'm supposed to believe that just because you have yet to kill in two nights, and that you hide who you are, you won't give in?," Gordon asked skeptically.

"I will not give in because I am not a man. I am a symbol. A man can give into the darkness, I am the darkness. I could be anyone underneath this helm, King's officer Dent, the baker Daniel Burrows, one of your men, or…"

Gordon cut him off, "Bruce Wayne?" Bruce had not expected that, although he should have given Gordon's skeptical and curious nature.

"Bruce Wayne, the man who limps around with a cane? Yes, I suppose I could be him as well."

"I've seen miracles in life before, and learned to not always believe what my eyes tell me," Gordon stated trying to read his reaction. _He is good at his job, I must give him that._

"I don't have a cane on my belt unfortunately Ser, but I do have great need of that name," Bruce replied.

"_Hm_…and what will you do with it?, he said sighing, looking back up at the moon.

"I will bring him to justice for killing those who did not need to die. There are too many fatherless sons in this world from war alone, needless murder does not need to add to its share," Bruce stated sternly but honestly.

"It's a beautiful night out tonight, well despite everything that's happened of course. The moon's bright, no clouds anywhere to be seen, stars spotting the sky like snowflakes do the North…One of the last nights like this we'll have I imagine. _Hmph…_Zucco, Anthony Zucco. I've had a run in or two with him before but never had enough to prove he had a hand in it. He runs down near the docks, him and that small band he calls a gang at least."

"_Thank you,_" Bruce said, trying to sound grateful despite the coarse tone of his voice.

"Don't thank me ser, just keep my city sa-" by the time Gordon turned back to look at Batman, he was already gone. "If you can…" he finished.

_**Selina**_: Chapter 5

_Well that was a folly_, Selina thought to herself as she reached the _Lion's Den_ after her long, odd night. _I walked amongst nobles as an equal, I sat at the left of Bruce Wayne himself, and I watched a boy become an orphan…_

Selina had seen her fair share of death in her lifetime, and this boy was not the first she had seen orphaned. _What does it matter to me? Folks die every day, whether it's a sword through their belly or the ground coming up to hug them…but his face…_ It was not the young circus boy's face that haunted her, but Bruce Wayne's.

She remembered it vividly, how Bruce Wayne's face began to turn as pale as a wight's, his eyes wider and wider, his mouth hanging open unable to form words. He looked as if he had just watched his parents' deaths again, on a grand stage in front of thousands. The look on his face had almost made Selina tear up, she hated him for that a little.

She had been only five when the Waynes were murdered, so she did not remember anything of it. She did remember her mother telling her the young boy had left though. Selina remembered feeling sad, wondering what losing both your parents would feel like. _Well I sure found out now did I not?_ Selina missed her mother dearly. The way she smelled of roses and summer grass, how warm her hands felt on Selina's cheeks, even the frozen pale blue hue of her eyes. She wondered if Bruce could remember his mother, or if the memories haunted him more than warmed him.

_Perhaps myself, Bruce, and the circus boy should start a cause to help the orphans of the city. We can use Lord Wayne's gold, the boy's tricks, and my wits to raise gold and silver pieces galore._ _What a fool's joke we'd make, the cripple, the circus boy, and the whore._

Selina smirked at the thought as she stepped inside. Holly was there, anxiety in her face. "Well c'mon! How was it? Did you steal that foolish cripple's gold? Are we rich?!"

Selina could not find the strength or desire to respond, merely continued up to her room and closed the door. She stripped off the dress she had bought with the gold she earned off of a stolen gold comb. She took the black-leather jacket from her closet and began putting it on. She wove the thread up the front of her torso to tighten the jacket to her, leaving enough undone to show a good bit of cleavage. _If you prevent men from thinking with the right head, they'll be yours every time._

As she put on the matching leggings and heeled-boots, she thought of another matter which bothered her about Lord Wayne. How did a rich shut-in know she was lying? She had perfected the art of lying so much so that even city officials had not questioned her statements or falsehoods. Yet this man who had been in the city all of but two weeks called her out on lying about everything she had told him. _Well it wasn't all lies I suppose, and yet…_She never said anything in response to him calling her a liar, or given any indication that he was right, but his eyes still spoke with an amount of certainty and resolve she had never seen.

As she donned her custom sewn head-wrap and mask, she let all of her problems melt away. She was not Selina Kyle now. She gazed into the mirror above her desk and stared into her reflection. The leather head-wrap looked perfect, no pointed and black helmet by any means but still sufficient. She was given a beautiful Courtesan's mask from the Jade Sea when she was twelve which she had sewn into the makeshift, black-leather helm. It was just as dark as the rest of her garments, covering the upper half of her face perfectly.

She had cut small, triangular ears to stick out from the mask's top, much like Batman had his longer metal points atop his head. _It's as if I'm the more eye-pleasing, seductive Batman_, she jested to herself. Her hair was wrapped up into the back of the mask. _While Batman and the guards are no doubt busy with the circus mess, I shall run free across my garden of dark spires and black, shingled roofs. Tonight Selina Kyle is no more, tonight, I am Catwoman._

_**Bruce**__: _Chapter 8

"_WHERE IS ZUCCO_!" Bruce shouted in a voice that sounded most likely demonic to the scared thug he had in his hands, dangling thirty feet above the streets.

"I-I don't know! He hasn't shown his face in a few days now! Some think he's gone underground, o-others say he turned tail and run! I swear that's all I know!" the man shouted, fear plain in his voice. A trickle of yellow fluid ran down his leg and off his boot down to the street below.

"_If you're lying to me it will be the greatest act you will come to regret in your life!"_ Bruce shouted as he let the man fall. He had tied a rope around the man's ankle and tethered it to the roof so he'd only fall ten feet before being caught. The man would get a sprained or maybe fractured ankle for sure, but Bruce did not care now.

He had been scouring the docks and lower end of Gotham for a week now, searching for Anthony Zucco. He knew he was here still, he had interrogated a smuggler last night who said he had just seen him the day before. _Now I only need to find him._

He had spent so many hours scouring the streets that he had neglected to shave; small, black ends of whiskers growing from his exposed chin and lip. Bruce figured it made him look all the more menacing. _There are too many damn rat's nests in this city to hide in,_ Bruce thought to himself as he found his next target to question.

A spritely thief had just volunteered himself as he ripped a woman's beaded necklace from around her throat and proceeded to sprint away as quickly as he could. She screamed but before she could shout for help Bruce appeared from the side alley in front of the man with an outstretched arm. The thief ran into it chest first, and resultantly flew back a few paces landing on his ass.

Bruce stepped over the man and lifted him by the collar, removing the necklace from his possession. The woman hesitantly approached her frightening rescuer with fear in her eyes. Bruce held out the necklace in his right hand, as she took it, he heard a quick and quiet, "thank you ser…"

Bruce shot his grappling shot up into the sky, and looked to the frightened woman and said, "Any time my lady." Then he climbed up with one hand as the other held the thief's collar. Not a sound was made save for the thief's cry of panic. Once atop the roof, Bruce grabbed the man by the ankle and held him out over the streets.

"Tell me about Tony Zucco, I know he runs the thieving down here and I want to know _where he is."_ The man tried crying for help, but no one heard or cared, not in this end of the city. Here, a cry for help would likely just bring more wolves out from the shadows to feast upon the carcass. _But even wolves will fear that which flies above it._

"I d-don't know nothin'! I swear!," the man shouted while flailing relentlessly.

"If you are going to talk, I would do it _quickly_, my arm is getting tired." Bruce let the man's leg slip a little in his grip to fool the thief, making him cry out even more.

"Oh Mother please forgive me, Father please look over me. Stranger-" Bruce cut the man off by lifting him up and grabbing him by the neck this time to dangle above the stone-laid street.

"_I am the only stranger you need concern yourself with tonight!_ Not some god you wish to pray to. Now where. Is. _Zucco!_" Bruce was running out of patience rapidly.

"Al-alright! Falcone's got him held up in the pub four streets over! Th-the _Sleeping Dragon_ it's called!" The man tried feigning a smile to appease Bruce's anger since he had done as he was bid. Bruce gave a right hook to the man's cheek, and left him dangling unconscious ten feet above the street from a rope.

Bruce had heard of Falcone before. Carmine Falcone had moved to Gotham two years before his parents' deaths. He took control of Gotham's criminal gangs and branches with an iron fist, and has ruled over as the Lord of Crime since. _I will deal with him after, now it's time to pay the rat a visit._

The pub was guarded, five men armored and wielding swords at the front door, three in the rear, and three on the roof with crossbows. Bruce silently took out the three on the roof first, then took the three in the back alley out with one spin of his boot. Then he dropped into the middle of the five out front and quickly took care of all of them before they could so much as sound a cry for help. He quietly went in through the front door and slunk into the shadows. He walked up the stairs from the bar room to the second floor without being detected by the five or so guards all drinking at the bar.

Once on the second floor, he dealt with the two standing guard over the only door with a blowgun and darts laced with a fast-acting sleep poison. He burst through the door to see what could only have been Tony Zucco sitting and drinking some ale with five fully armored guards between him and Bruce. Bruce thought for a moment on whether he should drop a smoke bomb and grab Zucco amidst the chaos, or send a message. As he ran into the first guard and spun the man's arm around until he heard bones break, Bruce knew he was going to be leaving Falcone a message, and a threatening one at that. He dodged the first great sword to swing at him, kicked another man so hard in the face he could hear the jaw break from inside the helmet, and then broke another's arm before he could draw his sword. He dodged a second blade, and kicked the two remaining men's closest legs inwards with powerful blows and they fell moments later crying in agony.

Tony Zucco crouched behind the desk, his face pale and white with fear. He was a thin man, with a long, narrow face and a scar on his upper lip. He was balding, with pale gray hair clinging to his scalp, and had a broken nose with two matching black eyes. _Falcone must not have been overly grateful for him botching the Graysons' murders with stupidity. _

Bruce kicked the desk to the side with a single, deliberate stroke of his leg. Zucco shuddered in fear, corned like a rat in a cage. Bruce did not even lay a hand on him, just stood in front of him, cape covering his entire body. He glared down on the sad, shell of a man and wondered if this was what his parents' killer looked like. _How pitiful._

A deep, growling voice emitted from Bruce's throat, "_Where is Carmine Falcone."_ Zucco's face whitened even further.

"I…I don't know…" Zucco managed to speak.

"I have been hearing that a great deal lately, it has yet to be true," Bruce said as he slowly stepped closer to the cowering man. His shadow slowly growing over the man until it enveloped him completely.

Zucco opened his eyes, as he now hung over the _Sleeping Dragon_'s roof with nothing but Bruce's arms keeping him from falling.

"I will ask you only _one, more, time. Where is FALCONE!"_ Bruce shouted, letting his rage overtake him.

"Y-you don't kill! So my lips stay shut! You c-can't make me talk, and this drop isn't enough to kill me…so there's no way to make me talk!" Zucco said trying to find some ounce of courage within. _I hate when they try to grow a spine…_

"_No, this drop will not kill you. I'm counting on it,"_ Bruce growled as his hands unclenched and the man went falling to the street twenty feet below. He landed with a _crack_ and gut-wrenching screams of agony. The guards charged out the front door to see the cause of the noise, but had clearly drank too much as they stumbled over each other. Bruce repelled down and dealt with them just as swiftly as he had their partners.

He stepped over to where Zucco lay grasping his ankles in pain, still screaming and shuddering. Bruce lifted him up by the neck, expecting him to be more conversational now. The man was shivering in his hands, his face grew more ghastly pale with each breath and his eyes waned.

"_Falcone. NOW._" Bruce menacingly stated, not questioning the man but ordering him.

"You're too late Batman…he's…summoned the _Half-Mask._ You're as good as a dead man…" Bruce did not know who this _Half-Mask_ was, but he cared not. He had the man responsible for the deaths of John and Mary Grayson in his hands. It took every ounce of restraint and inner strength he wielded to not bash his head in against the stony street beneath his feet.

"Do you feel a sliver of regret at all for what you've done? The lives you've _taken_ or the lives you've _ruined_?" Bruce asked, unsure of how the murderer would respond.

"The only regret I have Batman, is how I let those filthy Lannister bastards take my home, burn my fields, rape my wife…Were it not for that Batman, I would never have come to this damned city…" Zucco slipped into unconsciousness as the shock finally overtook him.

Bruce brought him to Gordon's main guard keep and left him chained on the stairway leading up to it. He had achieved justice for the young Grayson, or so he hoped. As Bruce stood on a nearby rooftop overlooking the spot where he had laid Zucco, Bruce began to feel afraid. Not of this Half-Mask, or of the criminals he was fighting, but what he felt himself _becoming._

_So as you can see, the first DC villain is soon to make his debut! I know there has been a relative lack of GOT character involvement in the story so far but I've been taking more of a slow boil approach. In a few chapters shit gets real and Westoros gets much more involved in Gotham and Batman's affairs! Any reviews would be very welcome and appreciated. _


	16. James Chp 5: Alfred Chp 6:Richard Chp 7

_**James**_: Chapter 5

"And you have no idea where he came from? Tony Zucco just appeared on our front step as if it were magic?" James had had a long week and this night especially had tested the last of his nerves. Not only was the Batman out delivering his own brand of justice, but now he had some thief calling herself _Catwoman_ running around stealing from nobles. Not that that kept James up at night, the nobles surely had the gold to replace whatever was lost. He just feared what changes Batman would bring to his city. All of Westoros seemed to be going mad, with two new masked marauders of the night, who knew what would come to his front door next. And now Anthony Zucco, a man James had been trying to arrest for over a year now, just appeared as a gift on his steps, shattered ankles and all. _If this becomes a regular occurrence I may have to divert more attention to trying to catch this 'knight' of the night._

"Alright, bring him in, find a damn healer or someone to help try and mend those legs of his…and will someone get me a damn report on who Catwoman plundered tonight!" Gordon shouted as he returned to his private solar on the third floor. As he walked in through the doorway, he saw the window was open.

As he went to draw his blade he heard a familiar voice from the corner behind him, "No need." Gordon turned to face Batman as he stepped out of the shadows.

"Do you always need to do that?" Gordon went to his desk and poured himself a cup of ale. He looked up to his strange visitor, "You sure seem to be in great want of a shave. I'm assuming you don't want one?" Batman said nothing, so Gordon sat down and drank his whole mug in a few chugs.

He finished and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, "We got your present, thoughtful of you. Next time I hope it's in a better condition or I may have to start coming after you more seriously. I've already got ravens from both Casterly Rock and Highgarden wanting me to make you our main threat. Only a matter of time before Baratheon gets off his ass to tell me how to do my duty too."

"Do you think I am a threat?," he heard in Batman's typical grim voice.

"I think you're trying to help…but I've been wrong before. You leaving thugs around the city unable to walk again or with broken jaws or arms or whatever the hell else you've done, convinces me otherwise. I know Zucco did it in for the Grayson boy's parents, but you breaking the man's legs like that…I can't get behind that. You don't kill, that is the reason why I don't set my whole watch after you, but if you keep this up I will put you ahead of Falcone himself. You can't do whatever it is you are trying to do if even the innocent people of the city fear you," he told the stranger while pouring another cup for himself.

"I lost control…it won't happen again." That was not something James had expected to hear. He looked up at the man, seeing what looked close to regret in the masked stranger's eyes. _Who is this man?_

"How can I know for certain that it won't? With the ways I've heard you fight, the damn trinkets and toys and whatever else you have in that damn belt. How do I know you won't become something this city has more to fear than even the Others? How do you convince me of that, ser?" Gordon felt almost like he was _scolding_ the Batman, as if he were his father slapping his wrist for doing wrong. _Am I drunk already?_ He looked back to his mug, saw it full of ale, and concluded he was not.

Batman waited a moment before responding, his helmet making it impossible to read any sort of emotion on the man's face. "I became this, Batman, to try and save this city from devouring itself. King's Landing, Casterly Rock, none of them paid any mind to this city as it crumbled in on itself. If I could give someone for the criminals and other deviants to fear, someone that cast a darker and longer shadow than just an ordinary man…"

"Listen, I don't know who you are or what pushed you to take this all on yourself, but there's one thing I've learned in my years in this city. You cannot do it yourself, you need someone to, on occasion, pull you out of darkness you find yourself surrounded in. Because when you get in so deep, you cannot trust your own mind to pull yourself out of it. You need another set of hands to do it, believe me, that's a lesson I am reminded of every day." James hoped he was getting through to this strange man standing before him. Most of the city feared Batman, but here he was trying to teach him something. _Maybe I'm not as far gone as I had feared either…_

Batman looked out the window to the streets, "Whether you trust me or not from this point forward I cannot say, but I am here to stay. Whether you hunt me or help me, I will always be here, to prowl these streets by the darkness of night."

James smirked, "I know…and I think I could use all the friends I could get right about now. So I won't set my dogs on you, yet." He took a sip of ale before continuing, "Now that you have dealt with Zucco, whose next? Might I recommend this_ Catwoman_? She's only stolen from nobles so far, but she could be…"

He turned to see Batman had already left, "Right…" He took another swig of ale before returning downstairs, a smirk still upon his lips.

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 6 

"Good night Master Richard," he said gently as he tucked the boy into bed. The boy had fallen into slumber near half an hour ago, but he always read the stories to their completion whether they boy was awake or not. He had finally gotten the boy to sleep in his new bed. His new living chambers were right next to Alfred's so he could come to the boy at a moment's notice should he call.

Alfred enjoyed having some pleasant daily company in this dark castle for a change. He showed the boy around the grounds, how to prepare a delicious beef and onion stew, even took the boy out into the woods to climb the trees as he was so fond of. That had been the first time the boy had laughed since his parents' unfortunate deaths. Alfred had even thought of adding a pet to the castle to keep the boy company. _Maybe a great big hound, or a horse to ride around the grounds, maybe something more exotic like a one of those small monkeys from across the narrow sea._

As he closed the boy's door, he heard something _knock_ from inside Thomas Wayne's study. As Alfred cautiously opened the door, he found Master Bruce sitting in a chair looking solemnly through the floor. He was wearing black silken bed dressings, but his face seemed ghostly in its blank expression. He did not notice his faithful servant until he was within arm's reach.

"Oh, Alfred, how is the boy doing?" _Whatever is troubling him, it's troubling him deeply._

"Master Richard is progressing well, he laughed today. He often asks what you're doing and why he's seen you all but twice since he moved in to stay with us. I tell him you had important lordly chores to complete, or that you were feeling ill. I highly doubt he believes any of it," he responded with a light smile.

"I found Zucco tonight Alfred…he was guarded, I must have broken at least one of each of their bones…and when I got to Zucco. Zucco…I…broke both of his ankles. I don't think he will ever walk again…He said he only turned to crime out of losing his lands and wife. What have I done Alfred? Am I losing myself so quickly in this monster I've created?" Bruce seemed on the verge of tears as he looked up at Alfred, looking for some sense of an answer.

Alfred kneeled down beside the young man, "No Master Bruce, you are not lost. I feared you were long ago, and often during your absence. But no my dear boy, you are not lost in the darkness. You have Lucius here to help you, and now young Master Richard too. The boy _needs_ someone who has gone through this before Ser. He needs your wisdom, your guidance, your attention. Help the boy, and I think you will help yourself in turn. And me Master Bruce, you will _always_ have me."

Bruce slumped forward and leaned his head on Alfred's shoulder, Alfred slowly wrapped his arms around the man as if he were a boy. "Bruce, _we are the night_, do you remember? What your father told you? You need to work in the darkness to help those in the light, but you can't lose yourself in it. Remember _why_ you became Batman Ser, why you want to help people, and why you cannot give up on yourself. If you do that, _then_ you will be lost Bruce."

Alfred helped Bruce sit back up, small tears in the corners of his master's eyes. "You caught Zucco Ser, now take a day for yourself. Take the boy out tomorrow, around the city, like your father used to do with you. _Talk_ to the boy Ser, help him not to become lost in his own darkness. Buy the boy a pet! I was thinking a nice, large hound, or maybe a horse so he can ride it and feel the wind through his hair again. He could use the companionship, I do what I can, but I am still a stranger to the boy I fear. It will take him a while before he can trust me enough to let down his walls."

Bruce looked up to meet his gaze, _I've won him over._ "Alright Alfred, I'll spend the day with the boy, but this matter with Zucco is far from over. He was working for Carmine Falcone."

Alfred's eyes widened slightly. "No surprise there I believe Master Bruce, he_ is_ the ring master of the criminal circus in this city." _He won't stop until he has brought Falcone before justice as well._

"No Alfred, I was not surprised, it was what he said next. He said Falcone has hired some man, the _Half-Mask_, to come to Gotham to deal with Batman…I have heard of no such man in my travels. I am weary of what is to come."

Alfred looked from the bust of Thomas Wayne to his son sitting before him, "I believe we all are Ser. In that you are also not alone."

_**Richard**_: Chapter 7 

It was sunny and bright out for once in this usually gloomy city. Since Dick had arrived in Gotham it had been either raining, cloudy, or the sky was dark with both clouds and rain. But today the sun lit its rays down upon the Earth and warmed Dick's skin as he stepped out into the light. Bruce was taking him out and around the city today, the safer parts at least. As Bruce limped out of the door he said some parting errands to Alfred such as tending to the few complaints the citizens at the gate needed to say.

Alfred had said that usually lords of castles spent quite a few hours each day listening to city folk complain of this problem or that. In Gotham however, people rarely came to the castle to complain because there was little even a lord could do in a city as crime-ridden as this one.

"My late Master Thomas tried all that he could, but at the end of the day there was nothing more he could do than offering some silver pieces to those who had came to him wronged," Alfred told him one night. During Bruce's absence, he had been the one to listen to complaints, but those grew shorter and shorter as people started giving up and losing hope entirely. Now that Bruce had returned though, the people had hope again, and the Batman made people even more willing to believe this city had a brighter future.

"Come along Dick, I'm going to show you one of my favorite places in this city," Bruce said as he hobbled down the steps to the castle gate. _He expects to walk for hours today?_

Dick's question was answered as a black, roofless carriage pulled up on the street past the castle's outer wall pulled by two large horses which he did not know the breed of. The carriage had red leather seats and interior with a dark oak exterior. The seat was more than comfortable enough to sit on.

"So where are we going my lord?" Dick meekly asked. Bruce laughed a little as the carriage jolted forward as it began to go down the street.

"You may call me Bruce lad, and we're going to Gotham Bay. My father often took me there to look out at the salt-sea and feed the birds and fish. I figured you might like some time away from that dreary dungeon of a castle."

Dick scrunched his face in confusion, "But that's your home my lo…Bruce, how can you dislike your home?"

"That was my father's home Dick, not mine. If it were up to me, I'd have the damn thing torn down and rebuilt. It's only a crypt for my parents' spirits now, it has not been my home since I was eight."

"Well whether your parents lived there or not, it's my home now," Dick determinedly stated. Bruce met his gaze and smiled. _This man is as confusing as the mysteries beyond The Wall._

"Perhaps you're right lad, maybe it is time to rebuild the place in a way. Let us start that today shall we?" Bruce said still smiling. They rode the rest of the way in mostly silence, both of them gazing around the city as it passed to watch it spring to life from the welcomed change in weather. Women were walking with their children, street performers were playing music or performing tricks for coin, even a few of the city guards were joining into the celebrations.

Once they arrived at the bay, Bruce and Dick slowly proceeded down to the sandy shore. "I'll tell you Dick, I have missed this place. The smell of the salty water, the feeling of stepping on sand, even hearing the damn gulls and their screeches, this is what I remember from youth. What do you remember Dick?"

Dick slowly answered, "M-my father lifting me up into his arms to fly me around above him like a bird. The smell of my mother's hair, the sound of my father' laugh…Is it true they caught my parent's killer?"

"Bruce looked out to the sea as they approached where the water's edge kissed the sand. "Yes Dick, it is. Last night Batman caught him it would seem, and delivered him to Ser Gordon and the city guard. How does that make you feel?"

Dick looked out to the sea as Bruce was doing, "Not very much different I suppose. Whether Batman caught him or not doesn't change anything, but I am glad that he is paying for what he did. They're still gone, the circus has left without me, and I'm still here. So there is nothing to make me feel any differently truly."

He remembered the day of his parents' funeral near a week ago, with both Gotham city folk and his circus family all standing and watching his parents be lowered into the earth. That was the first time he had seen Bruce since moving into his castle, and he looked as stoic as one of the gargoyles standing guard over it. Dick did not cry though, not when his parents were buried, or when he said goodbye to his former family as they left the city behind them. He cried at night, into Alfred's chest, before falling asleep to one of the man's stories. _It is time to make new memories…I suppose._

As they walked along the water they talked about where they had gone in their travels, the fantastical things they had seen that others could only dream of, and about simpler things like stories and what they each thought Alfred did when he had no one to wait on. "I think he practices how to look like he's made of stone. So he can stand with the other shells of armor in the hall of the Waynes and scare the other servants as they walk past!" Bruce jested making Dick cry out in laughter. Dick forgot how good it felt to laugh like this; he realized he missed it incredibly.

"If he tried scaring me like that I'd just pull on his mustache and run away as quick as my feet could carry me!" Dick replied giggling.

"_Haha!_ Ahh, well the old dog actually suggested something that might be a grand idea. What say you we get a pet for the castle? Make it a little less dark and lonesome eh? We could get a big hound, or cats, maybe some hors…" Bruce was cut off as Dick saw something a few yards ahead in the sand and ran out to it.

As Bruce slowly caught up to the boy he looked at what was lying in the bed of yellowish sand. It was a young hawk, no more than a year old, wriggling around flapping its wings trying to take flight. Dick noticed one of the wings was bleeding, and the hawk screeched in pain.

"A larger one probably, must have gotten into a squabble for territory like most lords do eh?" Bruce jested as he stood over the kneeling boy beside the injured bird.

Dick carefully picked the bird up, making sure to get both hands wrapped around the wings and body so it did not attempt to flail. "Do you think we can help it?"

"I don't know Dick. Alfred might be capable to, but he has only ever aided people back to health, never animals, much less a young hawk. We best leave it here and let nature take its course."

Dick did not want to leave the bird here to suffer, "You said we could get a pet, I want this one." He held the bird up to Bruce's face, the sunlight glaring off the bird's shiny, golden beak.

Bruce was not convinced, "Dick if you want a hawk, let us buy one from Highgarden. I hear Ser Wilmas trains and raises the best hawks in all of Westoros. You can go hawking with it, and it will surely be a beautiful bird."

Dick looked up stubbornly, "I don't want some rich lordling's hobby bird. I want _this_ one."

Bruce sighed, then smirked, "Alright, I suppose we can cut our day short to bring Alfred back our present. Let's head back then."

As they rode in the carriage back to Wayne Castle Dick inspected the wounded creature in his arms. It had light brown feathers coating its body with cream colored ones over its belly. It had dark brown, piercing eyes that constantly looked from one place to the next restlessly, occasionally staring up at Dick. It had black tipped wings and beak with long dark talons on each foot.

"It won't die, but I know not whether it will ever fly again," Bruce said after riding silently for a while.

"It will fly again, I'll help it." _If I can learn to fly again after falling, it can too._

Bruce smirked again, "What are you going to name it? Every sword or horse or ship has a name, so I imagine a hawk as beautiful as this one should too."

Dick had known the name he wanted for the hawk the moment he found it, "_Nightwing._"


	17. James Chp 6: Selina Chp 7: Alfred Chp 7

_James__:_ Chapter 6 

The sun was bright out this day, blinding even. James loved and hated days like these. He loved them because it gave the people a chance to get out of there steads and converse in the streets. The light probably even gave them hope that more days like this were to come, but that was also why James hated days like this. The sun never stayed, the light never shined on Gotham for very long. It was the day, or two, or three afterwards when the sun hid again for a week or more that always made these days hard.

James feared the same would happen with the city itself. Since the Batman had emerged from the shadows unexpectedly, the crime of the city had actually lessened to a degree. It was still far more rampant than even King's Landing to be sure, but for what was commonplace in Gotham it had gone down. James worried that soon, the clouds would come back, the sea would thrash and grow violent, and the darkness would strike back. _Am I going to be enough? My men? Is Batman going to be enough to stop the darkness from fighting back…?_

James had an uneasy feeling in his gut despite all of the smiling and happy faces he saw passing him in the streets. It was that instinct he had that made him good at his duty as head of the City Watch, and what had saved his hide on more than one occasion. _Well not fully,_ James remembered the ugly scar across his back from where some faceless knight had slashed across it with a long sword more than two decades ago. _Well I got the bastard's arm, so I suppose I still won that one in the least._

It was a rather quiet day, only three thefts and one murder down near the docks. James told his men he was taking the day off to head home, and to call on him should anything arise. He felt spending a night in his real bed for the first time in more than a month was a welcome idea.

_Barbara will be at the stove, cooking that beef and barley stew I hope. _His stomach ached at the thought. He had lived off simple soups and salted strips of horsemeat for weeks and his belly desired real food. _Young Barb will be out. She tries to get out on the rainy days even, so she would not pass a day like this up for the world. _He wondered what his son James would be doing. _Playing knight with a stick maybe, or trying to help his mother cook._

James smiled at the thought of spending an evening with his family for once. He had not had the time to miss them, but he did. Every night he fell asleep remembering his daughter ride her first horse, or James walking for the first time, when he first laid eyes on his wife all those years ago in Highgarden. _Just a few more steps._ Before James could reach the dirt pathway up to his cottage looking out onto the bay however, he heard his name called out from behind.

"Ser James Gordon, are you not?"

James spun around, his hand reaching to the sword at his belt. He froze when he saw his caller slowly approaching him with a small grin on his lips.

"Careful Ser, many who dare to draw their blades against the Red Viper rarely leave with their life intact," Prince Oberyn Martell jested.

"Prince Oberyn, I had not expected you. I was not aware you were still here, I thought you had left with the rest of the visiting lords."

The Red Viper chuckled, "You may wish to inspect your men's abilities once more, for they seem to be greatly wanting of simple observation skills."

James swallowed, he had not been expecting a visitor, let alone one of the princes of Dorne at his stead's gateway. His visitor looked of a similar age to James, with a face sharpened and creased from age and battle. Prince Oberyn was a fearsome warrior, as intelligent as he was aloof. He was not the sort of man to let all of his plans slip through his lips unless he found a way that it would serve him best. Whatever the reason that had brought him to Gotham, James was certain he would not be telling him of it. The stab at his men wounded his pride a bit, but it was nothing he had not known. Many of James' men paid more mind to the whores on the street than the men that passed along it. He had great trouble finding men he could trust, but he had managed to do it time and again.

"Allow me to worry about my men's skills, and pray tell me once more, what has brought you here? I figured a Dornishman would tread carefully in the Reach, for he is sure to have little friends amongst us," James retorted.

"That is why I travel with a century of men at my back. Truthfully I was here to gather some fresh spices and herbs for my daughters from your seaside markets, but I heard last night was rather exciting for you and your men. How many crippled thugs did the Batman leave behind again? Ten? A dozen? The number seems to have escaped my mind," the prince teased, feigning ignorance. _Stupidity does not suit him_, James thought.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak for the activities of the Batman Your Grace. That information is supposed to be remain with myself and my men," James reaffirmed.

Oberyn smiled, "And yet I know of it. Yet again Ser Gordon, I pray you to choose some men with some sense of wit in their skulls."

"I hope you did not walk all this way only to test my patience Prince Oberyn."

His visitor took a step back and smiled, "No Ser, my apologies. My men are so dull and witless that I find it good fun to dance with words on occasion, with a worthy man of course. Rather than a blade, dancing with those does get so messy. I was merely on this side of the city near the bay and wished to see what sort of man he who leads the City Watch of Gotham was. Some would say a man wishing to lead the City Watch of this city may be as mad as King Aerys was."

James' mouth retained its thin lined shape as he replied, "My footing at dance is horrid. If you wish to see my dance with a sword in my hand sometime, I would gladly oblige."

Oberyn laughed heartedly at that. "Ahh Ser Gordon, it pleases me to see a true _man_ leading this city. Don't think I haven't heard the stories of you in your youth. _Ha!_ The Fiery Blade and the Batman, working side by side to fight the crime that plagues Gotham…What a story that will make for my daughters to hear. Good day to you Ser."

With that Oberyn turned, his crimson traveler's cloak swaying out behind him, before walking back down the stone street before him. James watched the man go for a few minutes before he turned and stepped from the stone path to the one made of dirt as he walked up the pathway to his cottage. It made for a longer walk home, but he loved his cottage overlooking the bay.

It was modest, only two floors with four bed chambers, a kitchen, supping room, and family room with a big stone fireplace to warm it. It was a wooden dwelling, rare in this city of stone and brick, but James had requested it when he first moved here. He walked through the waist high gate and up the small stone cobbled path to his front door.

As he grabbed the old, iron handle and opened the door, he heard crying. James quickly drew his dagger and ran up the stairs to find the source of the sobbing. He turned his head from one side of the hall to the other, _Barb's room._ He ran to the door and pushed it open fearing to find a bloodied body. All he found however was his daughter on the floor sobbing.

"B-Barb…what happened? Where's your mother?"

Barbara looked up to James to him with red, puffy eyes from hours of sobbing, "She's gone father…she left…and took James with her. This morning before the sun even rose. She asked if I wanted to go with her, that it'd be safer and I'd be happier with her, but I couldn't…I…"

James' heart seemed to fall out of his chest. He fell to the floor on his knees, broken. His child moved from the bed to his side and he took her up in his arms in a long hug. _The light is already beginning to wane._

_Selina_: Chapter 7 

"Oh it looks _beautiful_" Selina held the necklace up to the light, letting the sunlight dance off the gold in a shimmering glow that lit up the room. "Only four gold pieces you say?"

The elderly woman nodded, "Yes my lady, and the matching bracelet's just another four."

Selina looked to the golden ring on her wrist, "Hmmm I suppose, might as well spoil myself on such a beautiful day. Here you are and thank you oh so much."

She left the lavish metalworking and jeweler's cottage and departed back down the hill. Selina wore a vividly green summer dress that complimented her new golden adornments elegantly. It had only been a week since she donned her mask as Catwoman and already had enough gold to live comfortably for the better part of a year. _The way I see it, if I keep this rate up I can live an even more luxurious life for a shorter amount of time as long as I keep making the rich poorer and myself richer._

Holly was next to her in a light violet dress with a silver necklace around her neck. As they descended into the town square she looked up at Selina and asked, "So no one's going to ask us how we could suddenly afford garments and jewels like these?"

"We were just whores Holly, not even the men who took us into their beds will likely recognize us. They were focused on places other than our faces." She had already run into three men she had previously slept with and none of them recognized her, only gazed at her body more than they did when she was a whore. _Maybe now that I look higher up on the social chain they find me suddenly more appealing, fools. _

The square was alive with people, merchants shouted prices, ladies giggled at jokes, and men either sized up the women as trophies or other men as competition. _Men can only think with one of their heads it seems._ That was when she saw him, slowly pulling past in a carriage.

Bruce Wayne was gazing out over the square as he and the circus boy he had taken in passed in their horse drawn, luxurious looking wagon. _He may be the first man I've ever truly met. _As she looked out at the carriage passing by Bruce took notice of her and told the carriage driver to stop.

"Good day my lady, and a beautiful one it is. I apologize for not calling upon you for I've been busy with listening to lord's complaints and dusting off the castle and such. What would you be doing tomorrow evening?," he said with a smile that could blind women a league away and a tone of voice that mirrored a level of confidence that most men would envy.

Selina smirked, "Oh you do the dusting now? I thought you had servants for that _hm_? And honestly my lord, I was not expecting you to call on me. Most men only have one thing in mind if we are speaking plainly and I doubt a cripple could prove enjoyable in bed."

Bruce laughed and then looked back down to her from up on his high and mighty carriage seat. "I highly doubt we have the same thing in mind Lady Kyle, but you may call me Bruce. I merely wanted to sup and show you the castle, nothing more."

"Ah yes, with an extended look at your bed chambers I'm sure. As it is with most noblemen trying to show off how large their castle is. Take a lesson from other men _Bruce_, size of a castle does not make a man more appealing."

Bruce's smile turned to a smirk as he looked into her eyes, "Yes, but Lady Kyle, I never said it was _my_ large castle I was showing off. The castle is my father's, and I think you will find I am not like other men."

_It appears not._ "Hmm, very well. Since I know where you live for it can be seen leagues away and you have no hint of an idea where I do, I shall come to your castle at dusk tomorrow. Call me Selina as well, Lady Kyle makes me sound as if I were some old crone."

Bruce smiled that infamous smile again, "Oh no my lady that would be improper of me as a gentleman, my carriage will be waiting for you before dusk tomorrow outside of the _Lion's Den_. That is the name of the place is it not _Selina_?"

Her mouth gaped for a second before she caught herself. _The bastard's found me out, but how? He's barely left his castle since returning and he knows I live in a whorehouse? But why would he want to keep company with a whore…why most men do I suppose. Maybe the great Lord Wayne is no different than the others…. _"Yes my lord it is, shall I dress in this? Or something easier to slip off I wonder?"

Bruce extended a hand, "Wear something comfortable, or noth-...Well I suppose we shall say just dress as you please in front of such young company." _He is a charmer to be sure… _She slid her hand into his outstretched one, "As you say, Bruce."

He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckle, "Until the morrow, Selina." The carriage pulled forward and continued on its path along the street up to Wayne Castle. Selina stood and watched the carriage continue its ascent before Holly broke the silence.

"What was all that about?" Selina almost forgot she was still standing behind her.

Selina briskly turned and continued walking the other way down the street, Holly having to step quickly to catch up. "It was a…challenge. Lord Wayne wants me to see the beauty of his castle, I'll be kind enough to take a little home with me."

_Sorry Bruce, you are nice, but you also happen to be the second richest man in the seven kingdoms, and that is not a prize I can pass on unfortunately. _

_Alfred_: Chapter 7

"Well it certainly is a beautiful bird Ser, but I'm afraid I know nothing of training or tending them." _I suppose I should be happy they didn't find a wounded wolf and bring the bloody thing back._

"I'm not asking you to tend it Alfred, just tend _to_ it. Simply patch up the wing, even if the hawk doesn't fly again. Granted young Dick here adamantly argues that it will," his master told him with a smile.

Dick was the one holding the hawk, its right wing bloodied and bore a few tear marks. It was wrapped in a small blanket and was no bigger than a newborn babe. "Because it _will_ fly again. I'm going to help it."

"Ah so now you have the healing powers of a maester eh? Can you make me walk without this cane again too?" Bruce retorted laughing.

_Well at least they seem to have bonded from their afternoon excursion together._ "I shall see what I can do, give it here dear boy." Dick handed the bundle to Alfred but as soon as the hawk was placed into the servant's hands it began writhing and trying to flap its wings free of its wrappings. It cawed and screeched trying to break free, but as soon as he handed it back to the boy it began to calm. "It appears to dislike me I'm afraid, very well, follow me Master Richard."

Before they departed, Bruce put a hand on the young boy's shoulder, "I had a pleasant time today Dick, we should do this again. Next time we'll actually ride about the city more and hopefully not come home with another chore for Alfred! _Ha!_"

Dick smiled, "That would be fun." _Perhaps it takes seeing a younger version of himself to help Master Bruce. I think Master Richard will help Bruce more than he can help the boy._

"Well come along Master Richard, let us see what we can do for this Nightwing of yours," he led the boy into the main doors while Bruce walked out to the garden behind the castle.

"So I trust you had an interesting afternoon young ser, what with seeing the bay and finding yourself a new friend."

Dick cracked a wide grin saying, "Yeah, it was better than sitting around the castle to be sure. Where will we keep Nightwing?"

Alfred thought a moment, "Well I doubt the bird would be happy perched in a small cage in your chambers…so perhaps a nice, big cage in the gardens. If he flies again that is." _The lord of bats and the ward of birds, how odd of a place this castle has become in a month. _

They set up in the guest dining hall to go about repairing the bird's injured wing. Alfred noted it was the same table he had stitched Bruce up on just over a fortnight ago. _I feel this will become a common occurrence for me unfortunately._

Nightwing cawed when the needle first pierced its skin, but did not try to flap free as Dick held it down as gently as he could manage. The hawk's talons cut him a few times throughout the hour they spent slaving over the bird but the young boy did not flinch away once. He was as determined as Bruce was when his mind was set to something.

"Well that seems to be the last stitch needed, give me that hand cloth over there young Master Br-Richard…my apologies I suppose I still need to get used to having two boys to care for _Ha!_" The likeness was so close between the two it seemed Alfred had trouble differentiating when a majority of his focus lie elsewhere.

"It's fine Alfred, it's not as if I haven't called you as one of my circus friends before. Derken the lion tamer, or Kasder the snake charmer _hehe_," he responded giggling.

"Well I suppose you have your head in the trees then, since you seem to be more akin to a squirrel or treecat than a boy." Alfred ruffled the boy's dar,k black hair. He knew Dick hated it when messied his hair.

"Oh a tree-boy am I now? Maybe I shall come up with my own title for you, _Ser Shiny Head!_" Dick retorted as he finished wrapping the bird's wing in bandages. He set the bird in a small dusty cage they had found in an untouched room floors above them.

Alfred picked up one of the small, dulled fencing sabers that lay to the side of the room. He tossed the other one to Dick when he had finished closing the bird's cage door. Dick caught it and took a novice swordsman stance facing Alfred. His left leg stood out much too far, overextending his stance and making him an easy target to knock over.

"Oh _Ser Shiny Head_ am I? What say you to _Lord Cannot Make His Bed!_" Alfred swung the thin blade down making it easy for Dick to sidestep and try to repartee. Alfred blocked and swung again, this time horizontally so Dick could duck under it and try to hit Alfred in the belly. Alfred stepped to the side and attacked until Dick had his back to the table. Dick leapt up onto the table with great ease while never turning from Alfred. They continued their fight but more evenly matched in height.

"Alfred, the light bouncing off your head is nearly blinding me! Perhaps standing up here was a poor decision after all!," the boy shouted laughing and snickering as he deflected Alfred's slowed attacks and tried to counterattack.

"Blinding am I? Well young ser, you are so scrawny and limp I could confuse you for a young lady!" Dick failed to bring his sword up in time and was rewarded with a hit to his shoulder from Alfred's dulled blade.

The boy winced at the unexpected pain but continued fighting. Alfred chuckled at the boy, "Oh did I hurt you, _my lady?"_

"Oh that's it Alfie! You are as good as done after that jape!" Dick leapt from the table and landed on the servant knocking him to the floor. They both laughed uncontrollably as they fell to the floor. After a few minutes they heard the familiar sound of a stuttered step accompanied by a light wooden knock come into the room.

"Alfred, your duty is to keep the castle clean and serve the boy, not ruin it and fight him!" Bruce jested with a chuckle as the two entangled on the floor slowly stood.

Alfred straightened his jacket and tunic. "My apologies Ser, but the little ruffian was begging for a good beating. Also, it is not my fault his skills with a sword are on par with a scullery maid."

Dick burst out laughing again, "Alfie I'm going to shave that fuzz you call a mustache off one of these nights while you sleep!"

Nightwing cawed from the corner of the room making all three of them chuckle some more. "Dick, take Nightwing up to your chambers and be quiet about it I pray you. I don't want the bird's screeching echoing through the halls making everyone's ears bleed _heh_. We'll have supper in an hour so come back down then," Bruce told the boy.

Dick went over to the table and picked up the rusted cage and left the room with his new pet.

"Ah Alfred, however are we going to train that bird. If it even flies again," Bruce said once the boy was assuredly gone.

"We could see if the Cobblepots are willing to depart with one of their bird trainers Ser. They have so many birds I can imagine they'll surely have one whom is free." _It's good to see him smile again._

Bruce's face grew more serious, "Have you any word, or uncovered any information on this Half-Mask while we were out?"

_Back to business as usual it would seem._ "No Ser, there's…nothing. No accounts in wars, no rumors in the taverns or whorehouses, not even a story from the ports. He seems to be as mysterious as the Batman himself."

Bruce looked out the window quietly, "I fear the sun may set soon enough in Gotham, and we shall unfortunately find out."


	18. Bruce Chp 9: Alfred Chp 8: Selina Chp 8

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 9 

"I had a pleasant time today Dick, we should do this again. Next time we'll actually ride about the city more and hopefully not come home with another chore for Alfred _haha_!" It was truth; Bruce had fun for the first time since returning to Gotham.

Dick looked up at him with a smile and replied, "That would be fun." _There is light in this one, his heart is bright. Unlike mine when I had my parents taken from me._

Alfred led the boy into the house with his new pet hawk in hand while Bruce limped to the back of the castle. He opened the hand-carved, cherry wood door into the garden behind the castle. While most castles' gardens ran rampant with weeds or milkweed or some other invading flora, Alfred tended the garden with an incredibly fine eye for detail. The flowers were all arranged in a rich canvas of colors and beauty with tall groves of ferns and thickets of other odd looking fauna providing a dense green backdrop. The flowers and herbs Bruce needed for his sleeping poisons and smoke bombs lay hidden amongst the beautiful flora. It was in this small, exotic forest Bruce found the distinct shades of brown and light gray that was Lucius Fox.

Lucius was wearing only gloves and trousers, as he had been hard at work nearly day and night for the past few days. Sweat condensing on his bare skin, light gray hair sprouting from his chest. He noticed Bruce approaching and gave his standard smile and greeting, "Well good day Ser, and how have you been faring on this lovely afternoon?"

"Well enough, Dick found a hawk he means to keep and train he says," Bruce said as they began walking to the back of the garden.

"_Ha!_ Oh that boy has really caused quite the stir here it seems. Speaking of birds, one just flew in from King's Landing. It would appear old and cold Ned Stark has accepted the role of King Robert's Hand. They're to begin their ride South by week's end."

This confused Bruce. Ned hated leaving Winterfell almost as much as he despised politics. He would never leave his home…_unless his friend was in danger_. Bruce shared his fears with Lucius, "I believe Jon Arryn was killed, poisoned most likely. A man does not catch an illness like that and succumb to it in a few days even if he was a century on this earth. Ned must fear for Robert's life greatly if he is willing to ride to that rat's nest of a capital to assure the King's safety."

"I suppose you're right, seems one lord's always trying to kill another. I always imagined hiring an assassin was an odd request for a man to make, to have that weight on his soul," Lucius replied as they left the garden and set out to the cliff overlooking the sea below.

"Another man's life is a heavy burden indeed, but speaking of odd requests, how is the one I asked of you fairing?" Bruce did not want to think of the souls weighing down on his soul any more than he had to.

"Ah that, yes now that we're away from any unwanted ears I suppose I can speak freely of it. It's progressing, if not slowly. There's a lot of stone to cut through and even with the smaller explosive powders I do use I have to be wary of using too much, lest someone in the castle hear and their curiosity or suspicion arise." They both stood looking out at the waves crashing into the rocky shore hundreds of feet below. Bruce remembered how often he would stand in this very same spot as a boy and contemplate throwing himself off.

"I will dismiss everyone save for Alfred on the morrow, for the week. I'll say I need some time alone. I will have Alfred or myself take the boy out during the day for you to do the greater portion of your work. Will that be sufficient?" Bruce wanted this request completed, the sooner the better.

Lucius was tasked with carving a tunnel out of the black-stoned wall of the cave to connect with a secret entrance from Bruce's father's study. That way Bruce's arms could get a reprieve from constantly having to lower himself by rope into the cave's northern entrance near the waterfall. It would also make the cave more readily available. Bruce planned to blow a hole through the wall behind one of the large, oak book shelves with a staircase leading down into the cave.

"That'll work just fine Bruce, it will still take near a month to finish though. Servants may question why they hear digging and the sound of metal ringing against stone from the locked study though." Lucius always planned several steps ahead in any project he took on, something Bruce admired in the old Summer Islander.

Bruce turned to return to the castle, "I will speak with Alfred to see how he'll feel having no help for a month, I doubt his response will be overjoyed though."

"_Ha!_ No I suppose not, but he'll understand the importance of the issue I imagine."

Bruce smiled, "Yes that's one thing Alfred always is, understanding." They were interrupted as a guardsman ran to meet them on their walk back to the castle from the cliff's edge. He was panting but managed to speak, "My lord, there is a man at the gate, he says-"

The guard was cut off as a loud shout roared from behind him, "I said that I'm the damn Red Viper of Dorne and if I wish to speak with Lord Wayne then I shall!"

Prince Oberyn Martell traipsed through the ankle-high grass up to where Lucius and Bruce stood just a hundred paces from the back of the castle and less than that from the cliff's face. He had a wry grin on his face and the wind buffeted his hair and crimson traveler's cloak as if he stood upon a battlefield.

Lucius raised a hand to stop the guard before waving it to signal him to leave. Lucius gave Oberyn a shallow bow before turning back to Bruce. "I believe Alfred had something for me to attend to." The Summer Islander left their company and entered the castle through the oak doors at its rear.

"Prince Oberyn, to what pleasure am I granted your company once more?"

Oberyn laughed, "You may play a lord as it fancies you Bruce, but a shadowcat that paints itself golden does not suddenly change into a lion. Just as a warrior cannot turn himself into a crippled lord, as dedicated and thorough his attempt may be."

Bruce's jaw dropped slightly, "I'm afraid I-"

Oberyn raised his hand and interrupted, "If you proceed to lie to me again Lord Wayne. You'll be slowly and painfully bleeding your way to an early grave by nightfall. Now tell me, _Dark Knight_, do you think you can take the famed Red Viper?"

Bruce smiled, "How long have you known?"

Oberyn laughed strongly at the comment, "My boy, I've known since I first laid eyes on you. I'm a warrior Bruce, sizing up other warriors is what I do."

"Is that why you came to Gotham? To oust me? To compare me to other warriors you have fought? Do you intend to fight me Prince Oberyn?"

Oberyn laughed once more, "No, no boy. Fear not, I do not intend you any harm, nor to let your secret loose upon the tongues of the city folk. I had not heard of the Batman until I was only two day's ride from the city, I came originally for another matter. Although, as this city has proved quite often…there is always more to be found in this city than one would presume."

"I am afraid I do not understand your meaning Ser."

Oberyn reached behind his back and pulled a leather flask from his belt. He tossed it to Bruce and smiled, "We never did have that drink of my marvelous wine my lord. Go on, drink, drink. I am sure you have heard of the horrors that befell my kin when the armies of the wolf, stag, and lion sacked King's Landing all of those years ago to stop the Mad King's reign. She was found dead in her bed, her baby found upon the floor with its head crushed in, and her daughter Rhaenys slain as well. Lord Tywin sent his dog, the Mountain, on my sister. He was only to kill the heirs, but Clegane decided to force himself on my sister, rape her before bringing her life to a violent end. He killed my kin, my dearest sister, and for that I promise you…He will have the most horrible of ends in this life that when death finally comes he will beg for its sweet touch as a whore begs for a lord's fat coin purse."

As Bruce took a sip of the wine, admittedly loving its sweet nectar-like taste, Oberyn grew closer and sterner. "That night he killed my sister and her suckling babe, there was another. Ser Amory Loch dragged Rhaenys from her hiding place beneath Elia's bed and then stabbed her. He drove his blade into her more than fifty times. She was but a girl of four, and that horrid little beast felt the need to kill her fifty times, but he was not alone. Loch stabbed her, but it was another that killed her. Her throat was slit, so deeply that her spine was barely intact. This other man decided to end Rhaenys' life out of pity for her, but he took it all the same. Amory had not had his fill though, and proceeded to stab her the remaining number of times until the count lay above fifty. This relates to you however, because I hear your persona of the night has attracted a certain amount of _attention._"

Bruce choked on the wine as the unexpected words. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "What attention would you be speaking of?"

Oberyn's smile was gone. He grew even closer to Bruce and hissed, "_Don't lie to me Ser,_ I have heard the tales of the street's filth. My men come back to me once the sun had set and tell me that the dreaded Half-Mask comes for _you_. He was there, that night my sister was killed. While the Mountain raped my sister, this masked stranger of yours aided Amory Loch in killing Rhaenys. One of my sister's personal guards was still clinging to life when he was found. Ranting a tale of a man with a mask half shrouded in darkness, the other as pure a hue of orange as the sun itself. He went on and on about how this man killed a score of thirty guards with a great sword in but one hand, and how he moved with such ferocity that he near pissed himself upon seeing him. They wrote these words off as the ramblings of a mad man near death, but I always believed them to be true. This Half-Mask of yours killed my niece, helped clear the way for the Mountain to kill and defile my sister. When he comes for your head, you will capture him and hold him for my return."

Bruce handed the Dornish prince back his flask. "And if I don't my prince? I am sure you're well aware that I do not kill, why would I hold a man for you to do so."

"Surely you can understand the thirst for vengeance. How it drives you mad, how it boils your blood even years after as if your body ran on dragon's fire. How the only way you can sleep at night is if you dream of stabbing the one responsible for your aching through the head until you can drift off into slumber with a smile on your face. The way your soul itself aches to send that of another's off to the Stranger to burn for eternity after being judged for their sins."

Bruce's gaze dropped to the ground, watching the grass rustle in the wind. "I know these feelings all too well. My parents' killers were faceless, I never saw their faces before it happened. I only saw two of their faces when they were already corpses. The last one's face eludes me still, and that is more maddening than my thirst for vengeance. I will make no promises to you Oberyn, but if I can capture the Half-Mask…he is yours."

Prince Oberyn smiled and clasped Bruce' shoulder in a leather gloved hand. "Thank you Bruce, I will not forget this kindness. If you have need of anything, simply send my brother a raven in Dorne. He will reach me and I will ride here with all of the speed the gods grant me. Alas, I must make leave of your city now. I hope you find your kin's killer, and force him to atone for his sins. As I hope to do one day for my own kin."

"I understand how you feel, truly I do, but it is not vengeance I want upon my parents' killer. I want justice."

Oberyn smiled before patting Bruce's shoulder one last time and turning to leave. As he walked off he shouted over his shoulder, "I shall tell my daughters and people of the shadow of the Batman! How he is a man as terrifying as the night, plunging into the darkest corners of this city, but always with eyes as white and blinding as those of the Father himself! To light the way for his _justice! Ha!_"

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 8

Nightwing screeched and the sound bounced from stone to stone down the hall until it found a home in Alfred's ears giving him a splitting head ache. "I'm so very glad the boy found a friend Master Bruce but does the blasted thing have to live down the hall from me?" They were sitting in Thomas Wayne's study, down the hall from Alfred's chambers and even further so from Dick's, but the hawk still sounded too close for the sake of Alfred's ears.

Bruce laughed, "Oh Alfred it's not so horrible, Dick took the bird out to the gardens all day letting it jump about the plants. It gave you an easier day did it not?"

Alfred looked unamused, "It would have had you not sent the other servants in our service away for a month." Following his talk with Lucius last night Bruce told Alfred that they would need an empty castle for the next few weeks so they could finish their hidden pathway to the cave Bruce had become so fond of.

"You know why we had to do that Alfred. With me spending more time as Batman and mysteriously disappearing, the less eyes and ears around to witness the better. Maybe we should think of keeping this a permanent change, you'd sure be doing your gold's worth," Bruce jested.

"Oh you are a riot Ser, and while we are at it why don't we just let the spiders and dust claim the whole castle? And let the horses, garden, and even you take care of yourselves while I sit on my ass and read my books all day." Alfred could have taken care of the castle himself if absolutely necessary, and he did see why it could be necessary with Bruce becoming Batman more often. _It doesn't mean I have the desire to clean the whole bloody place myself._

"Oh Alfred don't be so modest. With you on your ass all day how will I be able to sit on mine?" Bruce smirked, and Alfred came close to giving him a well-deserved smack to the back of the head.

"I would suggest finding a magical chair with legs that could move about freely Ser."  
Bruce laughed some more, "Ahhh come now don't be so sour my friend. You always did say you wanted me to have a lady come visit for dinner and now you're getting your wish! Granted it _is_ simply for the sake information, and not courting her."

Now it was Alfred's turn to smirk. "Ser, I wish many things for you in your life, and I think you are a right fool if you think tonight is only for gathering information."

Bruce stood up from the chair Alfred had found him bloodying that fateful evening a fortnight ago to look out the window. "Selina is the woman I fought that night you found me half-dead lying in that chair, she was but a whore then. However, the last two times I've seen her she's been dressed in some of the finest dresses and jewels I've seen. I would bet my fortune that she's this Catwoman, _and _the woman I saved my first night as Batman. I need to find out more about her to see if she has any knowledge of connections to Falcone. She steals the valuables but she doesn't sell them, so she'll have a black market merchant to get her gold off the books. She also does not appear to be much of a group player, so I doubt she's involved with any of the other thieving brotherhoods around the city."

_Yet the man thinks he doesn't know enough of her?_ "Master Bruce, you know her name, her upbringing, where she lives, what she did for a living and what she does now, I think you know more than enough. You could have simply slipped into her chambers as Batman and questioned her then. Do you think she will give you any more information as Bruce Wayne than Batman?"

Bruce looked back to Alfred. "Yes, because Batman she fears even though she would never admit it, and respects him as well. Bruce Wayne on the other hand? He is but another wealthy noble for her to seduce and play like a harp. She'll sup with me, maybe even sleep with me if necessary, and then while I'm asleep she will steel a vase or gem or necklace and be gone back into the night. It's quite a remarkable strategy actually, it would work flawlessly on me were I another, less mindful lord. Do you plan to try and set me up with her Alfred?"

_And there it is, the silent touch of admiration and awe in his voice. _Alfred should not be surprised, he was sure this Selina Kyle was a very empowered and determined woman. If she was even half the woman Alfred imagined she was he was surprised Bruce was not calling on her every night. Then Alfred remembered Bruce's story of Talia Al Ghul, and how that story unfortunately ended. _He must always has to go for the dangerous ones doesn't he._

"Master Bruce, if I could I would set you up with a goat if it would make you stop living this life of self-imposed solitude and return to the world," Alfred replied curtly.

Bruce walked over to Alfred plainly, since the door was closed and locked, and lay a hand on his shoulder with a wry grin. "Don't fret Alfred, I'm not alone. I have you."

He smacked Bruce in the back of the head, making the man who had been stabbed, cut, and beaten hundreds of times wince in pain. It gave a special kind of joy to Alfred. He then gave his master a forgiving smile. "Yes Ser, you do."

_**Selina**_: Chapter 8

The giant oak doors opened as Selina was guided into the castle. "Welcome Lady Kyle, I'm Lord Wayne's head servant Alfred Pennyworth and I will guide you to where you will be supping with Master Bruce this evening."

_Well he's a charming old badger_. Selina was impressed with how beautiful the inside of the castle was despite how dark and foreboding its outer appearance was. There was a black stone floor with dark gray walls and ceilings, beautiful golden hanging chandeliers with burning candles and a wide marble staircase leading up to the upper floors. _I wonder how large the grand feasting hall is._

The servant led her up ttwo sets of stairs to a smaller chamber on some higher floor. As she was guided into the room she took notice of a bed with red silken sheets and a small wooden table with three candles and plates set up on it. She turned to the servant, "Uhh, where is the feasting ha-"

Selina was cut off by a voice from the other side of the door. "I figured you would prefer if we got right to the point of the evening, as opposed to mincing words."

Bruce Wayne slowly limped out from behind the door wearing a black doublet with his golden bat on his breast. He looked handsome as much as Selina hated to admit it.

"Ah being ever the gentleman I see. Why run up the stairs after supper and risk breaking an ankle when we can just take a few paces and be in bed with our clothes off conveniently," Selina dryly stated.

"Thank you Alfred, that will be all for now," Bruce said with a smile as he hobbled over to Selina's seat. "My lady?"

Selina walked over and sat down as Bruce pushed her chair in behind her. Then he sat down across from her and took her plate. He took two cooked filets of cod and some potatoes and other vegetables from a smaller side table and filled both their plates.

"I heard you liked fish," Bruce said with an unreadable smiling face. _Does this bastard…?_

Before she could wonder anymore if he knew who she truly was, Bruce took out a vase filled with wine and poured each of them a glass.

"Fifty years old from the gardens of Highgarden, one of my parents' favorites," the rich lord flaunted to her before taking a drink.

Selina lifted the glass to her lips and drank, _mmm well I'll give this to Wayne, he knows good wine._ It tasted of the perfect mix of sweet and tangy, and danced on her tongue. She cut into the cod and took a few bites before looking up to her host. He was staring at her, his eyes unwavering as they gazed into hers. "Hmm, Bruce, what is it exactly that you do as Lord of Gotham, since your return?"

He chuckled, "Ah, well my lady I tend to keep to myself. Alfred handles any of the city folks' complaints or requests, Dick stays in his room or explores the ground as if it were the unchartered land beyond the Wall. While I sleep, drink, and fuck my way to serenity."

_Noble indeed._ "Where is it that you went during your dozen or so year departure then?"

The young lord smiled. "Why Selina, where do you think I learned so many of my skills?"

Selina's eyebrow peaked in curiosity, "And what skills would those be ser?" _This could prove interesting. _

"I learned how to out-match any man, even King Robert himself in drinking. How to beat a man at dice without fault from smugglers of the Jade Sea, but most importantly to pleasure a woman from the pleasure barges of Slaver's Bay."

_Hmph, walled up more than the far North, yet as see-through as any other man_. "Now Bruce, what was this of you wanting to get to the point of the evening? And…oh what were your words? 'Not mince words' was it?"

Bruce chuckled, "Well let us be honest with each other Selina. I am but a cripple, surely no joy in bed for a woman as fine as yourself. You on the other hand are a beautiful, young, and above all _devious_ woman who is accustomed to getting what you want."

Selina smiled, "You are correct thus far Bruce." _This lord may be a cripple but his wits are higher than most men's dream theirs can be._

"You're here to steal from me yes? A necklace or some jeweled trophy or statue, small to be sure. That way you can run away with great haste if necessary. I've heard tales of such items…_disappearing_, after lords have had you in their bed for a night. How else could you afford such lovely dressings," Bruce's smile was genuine, but his eyes were doing one thing and one thing only. _Stripping me down._ Not in the way most men would however. Most men would see her and picture how luscious she would look without her clothes. As Bruce dissected her however, he was taking her apart to display who she was as a person before him. _Bastard._

She took a few bites of her dinner before looking back up to him. "Let us say you are right, what then?"

_Two can play at this game, either he wants me to fuck him and then let me take something in turn, or thinks I genuinely like him. Either way he is fool all the same._

"Then I would say the vase behind me would fetch a handsome price in gold, twenty pieces if I am not mistaken. Or you could take that sapphire out of that statue over to my right, but it might take more strength than you could muster to free it unfortunately," he said never dropping his smile. _Or he could give a third path, he truly is unlike any man I've met. Shame._

Selina stood before seductively and slowly walking over to behind where Bruce stood and picked up the vase to inspect it. It was golden, with designs of dragons and chimeras and other fantastical beasts carved into its side. It reflected the candlelight beautifully.

"It is not a fake I assure you. You'll see the crafter's insignia on the bottom of it." Selina turned the object to check and sure enough it was there.

She smirked, "Well thank you for your time _Bruce_ but I think I'll be taking my leave now. I've come down with a horrible cough. _Cough._ See?" She raised her hand to her mouth and gave a feigned cough as she proceeded towards the door.

"Ah, not a problem my lady. Alfred! Would you kindly escort our guest back to the gates? She has come down ill unfortunately," Bruce called to his servant.

A moment later, Alfred rounded the corner and stepped into the room. "Right away Ser."

Selina was confused. "Y-You're going to let me just get away with stealing this?"

Bruce stood and limped over to her before taking her hand and kissing her knuckles once again. "No my lady. What is the only way to take the fun out of thieving for a thief? _Giving it away. _Enjoy the present Selina. I enjoyed our evening together, however brief it was."

As the servant guided her out with her new beautiful vase in hand, she could only think one thing. _Bastard._


	19. James Chp 7: Bruce Chp 10: James Chp 8

_**James**_: Chapter 7 

"How many bodies were there?" James had been having a rough few weeks since his wife and son had left in the middle of the night. He had no semblance of an idea as to where she had gone or how, but she was gone. Young James was only seven, and Barbara only ten-and-five. Currently Barbara was out working for one of the local bakers while James slowly tried to figure out what to do next. To make matters worse, the past two nights had twice the body count as usual in the city.

"Eleven Ser, the five of ours appeared to have a sword run straight through their chests. The others had slashes or broken necks," James' second in command Harvey Bullock replied. While most of the time it was just a dead thug, or a raped woman with her throat slit, but these past two nights they had been mostly city guard. Five last night and six the night before. Newer recruits, not veterans, to make matters easier in that they wouldn't lose experience, but the phenomenon still troubled James greatly.

_Who would be so crazed as to slaughter city guard in such numbers and in such a violent fashion?_ James had no idea, but it certainly did not appear to be the work of any of the criminals already in Gotham. Even Falcone had never killed men of the City Watch in such a manner; usually he would just win them over with gold as to avoid a mess.

"We don't have any witnesses?"

Harvey looked out the door and back to Gordon. "Well Ser, there is one…but she's rather distraught."

"Well I would be too if I just witnessed five murders right before my eyes…well no I suppose not, but you get the idea. Bring her in." Harvey left and returned a moment later with an elderly woman who hunched forward and had to hobble with a cane to the seat across from James. She wore a violet scarf around her head keeping her dark gray hair from falling in front of her wrinkled and leathery face.

"Tell me what you saw, if you would, my lady," James asked politely.

The old woman inhaled deeply, before coughing violently and shivering for a few moments. When her fit had subsided she finally responded, "W-well Ser, there was your line of guards walking the street. When out of the darkness some man appears wearing an oddly shaped helm. The guards shouted at him to halt, but he just kept stepping closer and closer. The men raised their spears and drew their swords, but the stranger was too much for them. He cut them down in a matter of moments. I barely had time to scream I did." The old woman succumbed to another fight of coughing.

Harvey daringly stated, "It sounds like the Bat's turned cold-blooded killer on us Ser." James had been thinking it but dare not say it. He remembered that night Batman had snuck in to speak with him. The words he had said to try and help the disguised stranger. _No, he wouldn't, he couldn't. _

The woman spoke a moment later, putting James' doubts to rest. "No, this man had no points on his helmet or mouth that could be seen. He had no cloak neither. His helmet was odd in that it was completely black on one side, not even a slit for the eye. The other was a light red or orange perhaps, it was hard to tell in the dark of night. And his helmet, it was shaped…l-like…"

James was growing impatient. "Shaped like what? A wolf? Bat? A lion?"

The woman's eyes widened in terror. "Like a skull Ser, the man's helm was a skull, and he told me he was going to let me live, but I had to deliver a message."

James' patience had worn out. "What is the bloody message woman!" The woman looked between the two officers before looking down solemnly.

"It's not a message for you Ser, he said I was to give it to the Batman."

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 10

"I figured you would get our message somehow," James said as Batman slid into his office chambers through the window. "I assumed if we simply spread the word around that I had need to talk to you it would reach you sure enough. I imagine we'll have to come up with a way to get in contact with you again should a similar situation arise."

Bruce decided getting to the point of the matter would be best. "What did the woman say?"

He had heard from Alfred that some of the street merchants were talking about how Ser James Gordon, head of the City Watch, had an urgent need to speak with Batman over some matter. Bruce had learned from interrogating a thief that some elderly woman had been brought in by the City Watch last night because she saw a man kill a slew of guards. The message was direly urgent apparently.

"Right to it huh? Well the woman said that one man killed all those guards, and was quick about it too. Had a helmet shaped like a skull, one half is black and the other's orange or some shade of red. He told her she was going to live so long as she delivered a message to you. That message being, Gotham's northern square, tonight at midnight. Every minute you're late, another innocent dies."

_So the Half-mask has arrived, and wants his bounty to come to him rather than track it down himself._ The display of arrogance was telling, Bruce could possibly use that later. He had just under half an hour to reach the city square.

"I've had men patrolling the area all day, but there hasn't been a sighting of a man with a skull helmet. I have three dozen men heading there as we speak, we'll bring him down," Gordon finished.

"No, pull them back _now. _This man is too dangerous for your men to face. He's mine," Bruce said commandingly in his gravelly voice.

"You know who this killer is?" Gordon asked the frightening stranger standing not two feet from him.

Bruce sighed, "When I found Zucco, he said Falcone hired some man named the _Half-Mask_ to come to Gotham and rid him of me. I searched but found no records of such a man even existing, until tonight."

"_And you didn't warn me?! _Those are my men out there dead on the streets, and walking to their deaths now! And you _knew _about it!" Gordon stood from his chair to lock eyes with Bruce.

"You should not have made a move without consulting me," Bruce replied bluntly.

"_I shouldn't have_? This is _my _city to watch over by duty, by oath, not yours! I appreciate the work you have done but that does not give you free reign to do whatever you will without any repercussions to your actions! Now eleven men lay dead on your conscience because you didn't care to tell anyone of this unknown threat coming to my city!" Gordon was inches from Bruce's face now. His brow was furrowed in anger and his chest heaving from the shouting.

"The count is higher than eleven Ser…and with my last shred of strength I will fight to stop any and all threats to Gotham. Whether it's a thief, this Half-Mask, or the damn King of Westoros himself, I will stand to face whatever darkness that comes to Gotham!" Bruce shouted in his dark voice.

Gordon's face lost any signs of anger suddenly; his face seemed to sink with sorrow at what Bruce had said. "Why you? Those people out there fear you almost as much as they do Carmine Falcone himself! And I have weight on my soul too son, but why are you doing this? You have no duty to this city, you don't have a badge on your chest like we do, why stand alone against this darkness!?"

Bruce did not have time for this, but he needed Gordon to trust him. "Because if I don't, no one else will." Before James could respond, Bruce dove out the window and onto the roof beside the City Watch's central keep. He had to get to the square and quickly. The night was calm and still, the light of the moon shone down upon the city uninterrupted by clouds. The wind was stronger tonight than most, buffeting across the rooftops and blowing his cape off to the side behind him. It was a peaceful night, and Bruce did not like the feel of it.

He arrived at the square within a quarter of an hour. It lay still, only the fires in the torches lining the streets and the sound of the wind blowing over the stones. Small patches of green grass surrounded by brightly colored stones dotted the square, with tall oaks standing at their center. There were no signs of life, save for the four guards tied to the trunks of the nearest tree naked and gagged. Bruce knew it was a trap, so he waited for his hunter to reveal himself.

After waiting for five minutes, a man stepped out of the shadows of a side alley and into the moonlight. His helmet was as the woman had described, black as night on one half, and some hue of orange on the other. The man only had one eye slit in his helmet on the orange half. The helmet had carved out angles around the eyes and jawline like a human skull would, and had teeth etched into its bottom. His armor matched his helmet, with his chest plate and boiled leather breeches as black as the right half of his face while his gauntlets and greaves were as orange as the left. Underneath his armor he wore dark scaled mail. The stranger wielded a large long sword in his right hand, and seemingly carried it with ease.

The armored assassin strolled to the center of the square under the cover of the trees, and with a single twitch of his right hand, the first guard screamed out in pain and then died. The Half-Mask raised his bloodied sword above his head and shouted, "Come Batman! Come forth and stop hiding in the shadows like a craven! Face your end with bravery and some sense of manhood between your legs!"

Bruce dropped from the roof he was hiding on and slowly stepped closer to the murderer. The Half-Mask immediately took notice of his prey approaching his trap and laughed, "Well, well, so you are the shadow in the night that has Falcone wetting his bed every night! You don't look so fearsome to me."

_Good, he is arrogant._ "Who are you?"

The assassin dropped his cavalier attitude and slowly replied, "You know not who I am?"

"Falcone called you the Half-Mask, and that he paid you to kill me," Bruce growled.

"_Ha_, that name, _Half-Mask_. I imagine I hate that name as much as Tyrion Lannister hates to be called an _Imp_. If you are to die by my blade Batman, you should at least know your better's name. My name is Slade Wilson, I have no titles, no lands or family, nor an almighty lordship. I have, _talents_, shall we say. Talents for beating, fighting, and above all, _killing _men. I am given gold for my services, and usually am tasked with killing some noble or arrogant lordling for Tywin Lannister, and a few times such as this, for killing someone getting under Falcone's skin. No one knows I exist, and no stories or tales are told of my victories or kills. I must have killed more men then Jaime Lannister himself by this time," the Half-Mask bragged.

Bruce was but eight paces from the masked stranger now, _only a little more._ "The Kingslayer? Funny, I've heard he's killed men by the thousands."

This made the stranger laugh more. "Who do you think taught him Batman?" The man reached a hand up and pulled his helmet from his head. White hair suddenly reflected the moonlight off his scalp, with a matching beard that clung only to the front of his chin. He had a black eye patch over his right eye, covering scars that traveled from his forehead to his cheek. He was an older man, maybe as old as Alfred, but while Alfred's face reflected kindness, this man's was forged in stone and steel from many years of fighting.

The stranger held out his sword, pointing it at Bruce's chest. "This sword is the true danger in the shadows Batman, not you. This blade has had a sea of blood wash over it, and has claimed more lives than a maester could count. I am no man Batman, I am death incarnate. I am Deathstroke!"

The man lunged forward quicker than Bruce expected, giving him but a moment to dodge to the side. In a heartbeat he spun his blade horizontally to which Bruce quickly raised his bladed gauntlets up to block the blow. Despite the bladed edges and the armor plating, Bruce's forearms still seared with pain. The swing was so powerful it knocked Bruce back a few feet. He looked back up to this Deathstroke, who was taking a moment to return his helmet to his head. Bruce charged in the presumed moment of weakness and was met with another horizontal slash which he ducked under before slamming up into the man. He threw the man down on his back and beat the man's helmet while blocking and returning the punches Slade tried to throw. Slade drew a thin dagger from his gauntlet and stabbed it into Bruce's thigh making him groan in pain.

Deathstroke delivered an uppercut to Bruce's chin, effectively knocking him up into the air and down on his back. Then he took his sword in hand, leapt up, and brought the blade down with the point of the steel aiming for Bruce's chest. Bruce rolled to the side and then brought his uninjured leg up and kicked his assaulter in a scaled section of his armor covering his ribs. Slade grunted in pain and was knocked down to one knee as Bruce got to his feet and delivered a second blow to the back of his head.

Deathstroke fell forward but quickly returned to his feet with his sword in one hand and the dagger in another. Bruce noticed Slade's helmet had dented and bore vague fist prints from Bruce's pummeling. Slade pried it off chuckling, "Ah you will be a good kill Batman, one of the few that I will remember well into my later years."

"You haven't killed me yet Slade," Bruce growled in reply.

"_Ha_, no not yet. There is too much enjoyment to be had from this fight to end it so suddenly," he jerked forward with another slash. They danced like this for the better part of an hour, the sound of steel on steel, shouts and cries and groans of pain, and the sound of blood splattering the stone street. People in some of the nearby steads had cracked open their windows to gaze down upon the cause of the sounds. The guards had arrived a while ago, but were held back by Gordon's orders. Gordon was no-where to be seen in the brief glimpses Bruce dared to take at his surroundings. Luckily this square was mostly filled with the workplaces of bakers, smiths, metalworkers, butchers, and other craftsmen, leaving the square mostly free of onlookers to wander into harm's way.

Bruce was bleeding a good deal, with slashes across his inner thighs and arms, two across his back, one on his chin, and a deep cut in his side below his ribs. The stab wound in his thigh from Slade's dagger was sending convulsions of pain through Bruce with every step. Deathstroke was also hurt fairly extensively. Bruce knew he had broken at least two of his attacker's ribs, fractured his jaw, and littered severe bruising across the man's chest, legs, and back. Deathstroke's left arm was also unusable as Bruce had broken it about ten minutes past. He had a bloodied nose and his last eye was black and bruised.

Rha's Al Ghul's words echoed in his head, "Remember apprentice, a man can succumb to bleeding from bladed wounds and cuts over the course of a fight but it will not stop him. A bruised man will slow, have greater difficulty breathing, and ultimately defeat himself."

Despite Slade's many injuries the man just did not yield. He wielded his long sword in one hand with the grace and strength of two masterful ones. Bruce knew he would only be able to fight another five minutes at most before he would grow faint from the loss of blood, but Deathstroke did not look too far from collapsing himself.

"Give up Slade, you cannot win this fight," Bruce threatened to the man as he sidestepped another flurry of steel.

"_Ha!_ I will not lose to some madman with pointed ears and a cape! I will kill you and be known from this moment on as the _Bat-Slayer!_"

"No Slade, tonight you only find yourself the victim of the darkness you surround yourself in. Tonight you answer to _me_!" Bruce roared.

Deathstroke brought his long sword down with an unexpected display of strength, but was left only to swing at the wind as his blade crushed the stone beneath its blow into a hundred crumbled bits. Bruce had stepped to the side and wrapped a hand around the man's neck while simultaneously bringing his head forward and pulled Slade's in as well. Their heads collided as Deathstroke's unprotected skull collided with Bruce's steel helm.

Slade gasped for air and collapsed from the blow, unconscious. Bruce stuttered before falling to his knees. He gasped for air as his entire body ached and burned from pain and exhaustion. He looked over to Slade's unconscious body beside him, and slowly chained the stranger's hands behind his back before attempting to stand. Then Bruce heard a noise he did not expect.

He heard the slow and steady beat of a few hands clapping together, before more and more joined in the chorus. Before long the whole square was echoing with the sounds of hundreds of hands applauding. Cheers dotted the sound of waves of clapping as Bruce stood and looked around. Bruce had not even noticed that a crowd of a few hundred smallfolk had gathered over the second half of their fight. A few guards ran over to the scene and lifted the bound Slade Wilson onto the back of a horse. Two guards rode off towards the jail cells of Gotham to house its newest guest. Another slowly approached Bruce, "Thank you Ser, but we have a problem."

Bruce did not know how to respond, "What happened?"

The guard was sweating profusely and had terror in his eyes, "It's Ser Gordon, ser, he's disappeared."

_**James**_**:** Chapter 8

James slowly recovered his consciousness and looked around the room in a dazed confusion. He remembered grabbing his sword and belt to follow Batman to the square, and then a sudden pain to the back of his head as he emerged from the keep. The back of his head was still sore, and he could feel the dried blood matting his hair. He was bound to a chair, with nothing but an old desk in front of him. The room was small and dark, most likely underground James figured. Soon he heard a rustling and some shouting from outside.

Two men in black tunics and trousers walked in dragging a bloodied man in scaled chainmail. They brought in a second chair and tied the man to it. He had white hair clinging to his scalp and a matching beard on his chin rising up to meet the corners of his lips. He had an eye patch over one eye with a matching black eye in his remaining good eye. The man looked like he had been through hell, _not that I look much better I'm sure._

A man in a red doublet and silver cloak walked into the room as the two thugs retreated back outside the door and closed it behind them. He had golden hued spaulders on his shoulders and a paired chest plate across his torso. The white-haired man slowly woke, and looked around the room confusedly.

"You failed Slade, and Falcone is very unpleased with you," the unbound stranger told him.

"_Ugh_, tell Falcone to go fuck himself. What I fought, he is not _human_. I've fought…_ugh_…many men before, and not even the Kingslayer fights with the skill or intensity that that Batman wields," he said while trying to inhale deeply for air. He had dried blood on his lips; the man had gotten beaten to within a few inches of his life.

_He's the Half-Mask? I should have had more faith in Batman…_ Their captor responded angrily, "You were supposed to be _the best!_ You were supposed to kill him easily as you kept bragging you arrogant old fool! We paid you a mountain in gold to do it and all you gave us was the city loving him even _more!"_ The man drew a dagger from his belt and stepped closer to the Half-Mask.

His walking came to a halt when screams were heard from outside the door. "What in the name of the Others…"

The man slowly walked to the door and held an ear up to it to try and hear outside. As he slowly opened the door and slid his head out to see into the hall, his body suddenly jolted. The man's body dropped to the ground a moment later, a knife stabbed into the center of his forehead.

James' spine froze with a foreboding cold shiver that traced from his skull to his ass as he watched the blood drip down the stranger's face and pool on the floor. The room was silent for a few moments, before an inhumanly-sounding laughing came from behind the door. Both James and Slade stared at the door, pale as ghosts with frightened anxiety.

The door burst open, as the oddest looking man James had ever laid eyes on strolled in with a happy bounce in his step. He had dark green, shortly cut hair that frayed this way and that. He wore a deep violet hued jacket with tails trailing behind his knees and matching trousers. His most frightening feature however was his pale white face, and lips with a smeared, crimson red paint over them, or so it seemed. His eyes though, were bright emerald and made James' skin grow cold just from looking into them.

"Well ain't that just a kick, why pay so much gold to wear armor if you aren't gonna cover the neck? _Pfft_ and people say _I'm_ mad," the man taunted as he strolled into the room. He stopped his paces directly in front of the Half-Mask, and knelt down to look him eye to eye.

"So _you're_ the one who fought the Bat and lost eh? Tell me, does he know how to dance well? I do _hate _a partner who always steps on my toes! _Ha Ha!_"

Slade looked at the strange man in front of him with disgust. "I don't know who you are or what miserable pit you crawled out of but I-" He was cut short as the white-faced man slashed a blade across his neck.

As Slade took his last gasps of breath and blood fountained from his neck, his killer sighed, "_Ugh_ how I do hate sour-pusses. No wonder you lost to him, you don't have the right smile! And the sad part about that pit jest is, I don't remember what pit I crawled out of either! _HaHaHa!_" His voice suddenly grew harsher as he angrily growled, "You did not _deserve_ to kill him!"

The white faced man then doubled over in uncontrollable laughter, before standing up straight and jumping over to where James sat bound. "So _you're_ the Bat's messenger bird eh? Ohhh don't worry Ser, I have no intentions to harm you. I find myself having a great need for your services! _Hahaa!_ Soo, I have something for you to whisper to the little Dark Knight next time you see him. Tell him the clown king of crime is here, and ready to make Gotham quake until it brings itself down to the ground, _HAHAHA!"_

James dared to look up and meet the man's gaze. "Who are you?"

The man looked taken aback, "You haven't _heard_ of me? Oh by the Seven what has the world come to? I am nothing but a fool really, a jester before the court of the world. A world full of fat kings, arrogant lords, and foolish knights who would die for the both of em! I'm a jester, a fool, a _Joker_ if you would! _Ha, ha…Ha HahaHaHahaHa!" _The man's sickening laughter echoed against the stone bricks of the room and chilled James to his core.

_I've gotta say, writing that last chapter was really fun! As always, any reviews would be welcomed and I'll respond to every one!_


	20. Alfred Chp 9: Selina Chp 9: Joker Chp 1

_**Alfred**_**:** Chapter 9 

He heard the muffled banging as he walked past the closed, locked doors of Thomas Wayne's study. The few servants they had returned to work had gone to sleep for the night, so Alfred was the only one pacing through the halls at this hour. It had to be well past midnight at this point, but Alfred cared not to check.

He quickly opened the door with his key and ran to the bookshelf at the back of the room. During the month Alfred had the other servants removed from the grounds, Lucius had carved out a tunnel connecting the cave to this room, and that old, oak shelf was the entrance. Alfred could hear the hard knocking even clearer now, and moved his hand up to the fifth row from the top. He counted over six books, and pulled on the red tome that lay before his hand. It pulled out with him, connected to a wooden lever that activated some contraption making the shelf slide sideways across the mouth of the fire pit.

Alfred's heart dropped, as the door slid to the side Lucius came into view with a bloodied and seemingly unconscious Bruce in his arms. He quickly went to Lucius' side and together they each took an arm around their shoulders and dragged Bruce over to the table and laid him down on top of it. They stripped Bruce of his armor and leather until only skin remained. Alfred sent Lucius to fetch supplies and blankets while he closed the door behind him before returning to his master's side to inspect his wounds. Bruce had a deep gash on his side, a stab wound in his thigh, and a variety of other slash wounds and bruises across his body.

_Could barely go a month without giving me another bloody heart attack could you? _Bruce was unconscious, but still breathing. _Well when he wakes, oh not even the Seven shall protect him from me then. _

Lucius soon returned with what Alfred had requested, and they set to work. They stitched, sewed, bandaged, and cleaned wounds until the sky grew light orange as the sun slowly prepared to rise. Alfred's brow, neck and back were caked with dried sweat from the long night of stress, repairing, and worrying. When Alfred had done all he could do, he sat back in Thomas Wayne's chair and let out a great sigh. Lucius left the room only to return a moment later with two glasses filled with wine.

"Cheers, to the first of many long nights of blood, bruises, and bandages," Lucius said with a smile. He handed Alfred his glass and sat in the chair beside him. Alfred drank his entire glass in a few large chugs.

"I would rather hope it be the last…" Alfred stated solemnly as he wiped his mouth with an unbloodied rag. Lucius simply kept smiling and drinking as they both stared at the young, bandaged man lying unconscious on the table before them. After what felt like hours, Lucius finally cleared his throat and spoke. "I was working at my forge when he came riding in on that black stallion of his, barely could keep his seat on the damn thing. He seemed half dead when I got to him, practically knocked me over when he collapsed onto me. I take it he met with our mysterious Half-Mask."

Alfred did not know if Bruce had lost or won the fight, but it did no matter. There would be another, and then another, and it would not stop. Not until one night, Alfred's skills wouldn't be enough to save his master's life. Bruce would do this until it did kill him, Alfred knew that, it was only a somber realization to come to grips with.

Lucius turned to him and spoke as if he knew exactly what was going through the servant's mind. "He won't die Alfred."

Alfred cock an eyebrow at him. "And how do you know ser?"

Lucius turned back to Bruce and smiled, "Because a man that fights for a cause, not titles or lands or gold, but for something _noble_. Men like that cannot be killed so easily."

Alfred was still doubtful. "I've seen noble men die before Lucius, some at my feet, some in stories."

Lightly laughing, Lucius replied, never stopping his constant smile. "Yes you saw and heard of those men dying, but Bruce isn't a man anymore. He is _Batman_, something that cannot be killed. He is a legend, a myth, a _symbol._ And men can lose blood, heads, lives, but a symbol, it is not something that can have a sword stabbed through it."

Alfred looked out the window to see the sky's now darker orange hue as morning dawned. "It is not the symbol I worry for Lucius, it is the man behind it."

_**Selina**_: Chapter 9

_He_ fought, with every ounce of strength and will _he_ could muster, _he_ fought. _His_ cape blew behind _him_ and was buffeted around by the wind and _his_ own speed. _His_ arms and fists tensed as _he_ delivered blow after blow. _His_ lips tightened into a taut line of determined resolve. _His _armor reflected the pale moonlight, shining like some gift from the heavens to save her from the darkness. _He _was the embodiment of strength, will, and purpose. _He_ was swift, _he_ was strong, and _he_ was destined for something great, Selina could feel it. _His _eyes though, _his_ eyes were dark storms of anger, hurting, and sorrow.

_He_ fought a black and orange demon, with half of its face burned and twisted, the other half pale and rotted. It wielded a giant sword that it swung around as if it were a simple stick, but even that was not enough to stop _him._ The demon attacked once more, after battling for what felt like days. With one final blow, _he _swirled around the hellish creature and stabbed _his_ sword right through the creature's heart. It screamed and groaned and made other noises that made Selina's spine and skin crawl, but it soon fell to the earth, dead.

_He _turned to Selina, the slits in his helm for his eyes now shining a full, bright white. He slowly walked closer to her, putting his strong arms around her. She hesitantly leaned in to him, never looking away from the two white slits in his helm. She slowly moved her head up, making their lips grow closer. When they were but mere inches apart, his lips suddenly contorted in pain. The point of a sword pierced through his chest, and Selina watched in horror as the white light shining from where his eyes were died out. His eyelids closed, and he fell to the ground lifeless. The half burned, half rotted demon towered over her, slowly closing in. Selina turned to run but fell to the ground. The demon brought the point of its sword down upon her now and…Selina's eyes opened.

A cold sweat covered her chest and forehead, her eyes wide open in terror. She looked around the room, seeing her cats curled up in various positions, and the light from torches out in the street illuminating her room ever so slightly. She found the strength to stand, and eerily peered around the room, half expecting the creature from her dream to jump out at her and slay her again.

Selina had been there, part of the crowd that had gathered in the city's square at the northern edge of the city to watch the infamous Batman fight some armored stranger who was equal parts black and orange. They fought with a strength and ferocity she thought mortals could not possess. Neither one backing down despite the cuts, and bruises and wounds the other inflicted. They fought for close to an hour like that. She was surprised neither of them simply collapsed from exhaustion. But Batman had won, after all of the blood that the stranger's sword had shed, Batman still found the strength to win. He didn't stay for very long however, as some guard came up and whispered something to him and he was off into the shadows as quickly as he had come. The oddly armored man was dragged off too, to one of the jails probably. He looked as if he were at death's door, pounding to be let in.

Selina should have been out robbing to her heart's content since everyone within a few blocks was gathered in the square to watch, but she couldn't find it in herself to pull away. _What if he died, without ever knowing who he was, or not even being there to witness?_ Selina caught herself. _Why should I care who he is? He could be Gordon or Dent or a baker or some street beggar for all I care. I only need to worry about myself. The Batman can fight crime til' it puts him in an early grave if he cares to, I will not be shedding a tear._

Selina looked out to the street, studying how the torchlight reflected off every individual street stone, wondering if blood had ever been spilt on any of them. _Of course they have, it's Gotham. _She returned to bed to try and sleep, but to no avail. She laid in bed for hours thinking of something she hated herself for thinking about, Batman, and who would risk his life for the scum of this city.

_**Joker**_: Chapter 1 

It had been a delightful evening, he got to kill four men, scare the head of the City Watch piss-less, and watch _him._ Oh _he _was the best part of the night by far. The way his cape moved, the look in his eyes, how he gave that fool _Deathstroke_ the most shameful defeat in the history of Westoros. _Ooooooh how delicious that treat was, I could use a second and third helping to be certain. _

_Oh you've had enough you fattened, self-indulged fool,_ he argued with himself.

_Oh well look at the mockingbird call the crow black, you know there's no such thing as enough hehe_, he counter-argued.

_Ha Ha! You're right! We should find another person to kill, oh please please please!_ The second inner voice begged.

_No! We're on a mission! Keep your head in the game or I'll kill you too!_ The second inner voice kept quiet, as Joker walked through the night quietly and alone. _Hmmmm Joker, I quite like that name, why haven't I thought of that before? The arch-nemesis of the Batman needs a fitting name after all!_

The sound of his steps on the street echoed faintly down the street as Joker marched on towards his destination. It was a tavern on the lower eastern side of the city, some dingy dumping ground for scum and deviants called _The Scalding Bath_. Whoever titled a place with a name like that deserved to be killed.

As he approached the inn he found three muscular thugs standing in wait outside. Two had only a dagger at their belt, the other had a Morningstar. The lot of them stood at least six feet tall, looking mean, menacing…and _incredibly_ boring. Joker thought of how easy this would actually be as a wide smile crossed his red lips.

One of the dagger wielding brutes noticed him first. "Hault! What business you have down 'ere?" The other two drew their weapons as Joker showed no signs of slowing down.

Joker raised his hands, "Gentleman! Gentleman! Let us not be so quick to spill blood! What happened to manners in this poor city? What happened to the age when a man could come into town with a white face with hair as green as grass and get invited in for a drink or three _hehe_?"

The thugs did not look amused. "You keep coming closer funny man and I'll give you something to smile about." The other two laughed at the comment, thinking themselves funny.

"Ohh you want something funny do you? How about a joke? What do you get when you cross a halfwit with something shiny?" Before any of them could respond Joker had slit two of their throats with a knife he stowed in his sleeve. As his two comrades fell to the ground dead, the last man let fear overtake him as he stood mouth gaping at his white-faced assailant.

"A _dead_ halfwit!" Joker stabbed the last man thrice in the neck, letting the blood spurt out in a fountain of crimson as he laughed hysterically. More men emerged from behind the inn doors, coming out to see what the cause of the noise was.

There were at least twenty of them, all encircling Joker and the three fresh corpses at his feet. A man wearing red and blue robes of silk strode from the inn as if he were a king. He had a fat face, a few chins, and a matching fat gut. _Ooooh that will be fun to watch innards spill out of, I wonder if he's full of shit._

"And who would you be my strange, soon-to-be-dead friend?" The man asked without even trying to hide his arrogance. _Yep._

"Ohh my lord, I am but a humble traveler seeking a man by the name of Daven Falcone, nephew of Carmine Falcone?" Joker gave a pleasant smile to the robed man.

"Ahh yes, well you have the pleasure of looking upon him ser, the last sight you will have in this life I'm afraid," the man returned with a smile.

"_Ha Ha!_ My father once told me about fear and what it does to men, he was afraid up until the very end sadly."

Daven looked perplexed, if only slightly. "How did your father die ser? A peasant's death? Or perhaps a traitor's? Those are always unpleasant."

Joker's smile grew even larger now. "_Hahheheha!_ No, no nothing such as that. He died with my knife in his neck of course!"

Before any of them could move Joker threw a small, ceramic orb at the young Falcone's face hitting him square in the nose. The sphere burst open as a bright green liquid coated the man's face. He screamed in bloody agony as the mixture slowly burned away his skin and flesh. Joker slowly marched over to the man as he fell to the ground, still screaming.

"Ohhh lighten up good ser! You're but the first course! _Ha Ha HAHAHA HA!"_ Joker lost himself to uncontrollable laugher as Devan's screaming slowly subsided as the acid burned into his skull and brain. Joker looked down at the man whose face had melted to the back of his skull, and gave it a stomp with his foot.

He turned to look at the twenty thugs who all stood with mouths hung open and skin now a few shades whiter. Joker smirked, _"Sooo_ my little flock of sheep, who wants to let old Joker be their shepherd as we lead Gotham into a new age of crime and fun! We can't forget the fun, _Hahaha_!"All of the men dropped their weapons, and fell to a knee as Joker looked around upon his new followers with a smile. _Ahhh it is good to be home._


	21. Richard Chp 8: Bruce Chp 11: James Chp 9

_Richard_: Chapter 8 

"How long is Bruce going to be locked up in his chambers Alfie?" Dick was tired of wandering around the halls bored with no one but Nightwing to keep him company. He hadn't spoken or heard from Bruce in six days, which was uncommon even for him. Usually Dick could at least hear Bruce, from within his father's study on occasion, or he would see him walking around with Lucius speaking with hushed voices. Now however, Dick hadn't even seen an ounce of proof that he was even alive these past few days, and he was growing suspicious.

"Oh Master Richard you know how busy Master Bruce is. What with this Batman appearing and now this black and orange assailant. The people are become increasingly troubled for their wellbeing and that of the city, with good reason too. This city's changing, and Master Bruce is going to be the one to steer it through the storm as the Lord of Gotham," Alfred replied as they took their usual afternoon walk around the grounds.

Dick still was not biting though; he knew Bruce rarely did anything lordly in this city, because people rarely ventured up to the castle to complain. For years they had just gotten used to dealing with the crimes or wrongdoings committed against them while biting their tongue. There was no one to run to in this city. It seemed most people still weren't ready to come to their crippled, recluse of a lord with their own problems. Dick could hardly blame them. Bruce always seemed so disinterested in the day to day tasks he had to do. The only time Bruce ever seemed interested in anything was when he and Dick were talking about their parents or past explorations, or when he was whispering with Lucius behind the locked doors of Thomas Wayne's study. Dick often wondered what they had to talk about in such great length and secrecy.

"_Heh_, like Bruce ever does any real work around here anyways. I've been here for near a month now, and the most work I've ever seen him do was try to walk up the stairs every day," Dick replied smirking.

"Now, now Master Richard, I would not be so quick to judge Master Bruce. As I recall, you have yet to so much as make your bed in this last month either. So the boy should not judge the man," Alfred said returning a smirk.

"Well, I'm not a boy so I have no need to make a bed, for I am a squirrel!" Dick shouted as he vaulted up to the nearest branch hanging over their heads. His hands gripped the bark tightly, feeling it crunch under his fingers as he pulled himself up. Nightwing clung to his shoulder as Dick straightened his body to stand on the branch before ascending higher.

"Careful Master Richard! We already have one little bird with a broken wing and I'd hate to have another!" Alfred shouted from below.

Nightwing cawed as Dick neared the peak of the large pine tree and looked out to see the surrounding landscape. He saw the city stretching out below him into the valley, the large rolling hills on the other side of it, the dark blue bay to its left, and the fields of grass creating waves blowing out from Gotham to the its left. The tall, gray city wall rose up, encircling the city. Then he noticed a speck of black flying from over the waves of green towards the city. It ascended from the valley, up the hill to where Wayne Castle stood overlooking the bay, and landed in one of the spires sprouting up from the castle.

When Dick climbed back down he told Alfred of the crow he saw land at the castle, and then returned back to within the dark stoned walls. Once inside, Alfred departed for the ravens' keep while Dick silently waited around the corner from Bruce's chambers. Sure enough, a few minutes later Alfred returned with a small letter in hand. As Alfred unlocked the door to Bruce's room and walked in, Dick quickly and quietly ran to the door and ducked in before Alfred could close it.

He startled Alfred, making his mouth gape in shock but then tighten into what was surely going to be a stern order to leave. Before he could however, Dick saw Bruce. He was covered in white and red stained bandages, with wrappings around half of his head, both arms, and quite heavily around his stomach. Dick could not see how injured his legs were because his lower body was covered by a silk sheet from the waist down. He was awake, but not moving very much. He stiffly turned his head to gaze upon Dick, and Dick's stomach tightened until it felt like stone.

"W-what happened to you?" Dick managed to get out from between his lips.

_Bruce_: Chapter 11 

Bruce could only cough as he tried to speak. The boy waited with open ears and mouth for an answer. Bruce's throat burned, his head ached terribly, and his body felt numb from whatever concoction Alfred was making him drink. He was dizzy too, but Bruce supposed it was better than being dead.

"Dick, leave us." Bruce said unquestioningly.

Dick looked hurt. "No! I want to know what happened and why you're bloodied and bruised!"

Bruce sighed, "I was attacked by some thugs when I was leaving from a meeting in the city." He didn't know if the boy would believe it, but it was the most truth he was going to get.

"A meeting _where?_" Dick wasn't going to let it go, as Bruce figured.

"It isn't of your concern Dick, now go. I have important matters I need to discuss with Alfred."

Dick looked hurt, and turned around and stomped out into the hall. Alfred closed and locked the door successfully this time, and turned to Bruce. "I'm sorry Master Bruce, I did not know the boy was behind me."

"It's fine old friend, although now I'm fairly convinced he's caught onto our scent. It'll be harder to hide my secret from him from now on." Alfred moved to sit in the chair at his bedside, "Now tell me what that letter says."

"It is from Eddard Stark I believe Ser," Alfred said as his eyes traced over the words.

"Stark…what would he have to say?" Bruce had not spoken with Lord Eddard Stark since he was eight years old, and this random letter was surely something more than a simple welcome home.

"It's in the Old Tongue Ser, so I've been having a little difficulty deciphering it. My knowledge of ancient languages has decayed over the years I'm afraid."

Bruce held out a hand, and Alfred placed the unusually long message in his hands. Usually letters were only a few sentences, this one was in a rather small script and covered the entire piece of crinkled parchment. Bruce brought it a few inches from his face and squinted his eyes to read. His knowledge of the Old Tongue was rather extensive, but he had not used it in a quite a few years.

_Dear Bruce,_

_I have accepted the role of King's Hand. I hope you are well. I was overjoyed when I heard you had returned from the dead to join the realm of the living once more. But that is not important now, it is a dangerous place I am traveling to my boy. There are spiders and shadows there that know more secrets than men could dream up in a lifetime. There is a council member, Lord Varys, he is called the Spider. He has spies everywhere Bruce, across the Narrow, in the North, even in Dorne and Gotham as well I imagine. Be wary of this Spider, Bruce, he is sure to have taken great interest in this Batman that has quickly grown into a legend throughout the kingdom. I do not know if you are this figure, or if you know who it is, but be cautious. His web stretches across the globe. Any servants you have, or men you pass on the streets, they could be his. Do not let his spiders roam free about your walls, your servant Alfred could even be one of his spies. Be careful son, I fear winter is not the only thing coming. I fear a dark storm is on the horizon. I know not when it will come or what damage it will cause, but I feel it in my bones that it is coming. Be careful Bruce, I fear nowhere is safe. I hope you have managed to become the man your father hoped you would, and the symbol you will use to light the way for your city. Though, something tells me you may already have._

Bruce handed the letter back to Alfred, "Burn it, and tell all of the servants we had returned to the castle that we no longer need their services.

"But Ser, we only brought back a dozen."

"Good, it'll be less people to put back out on the streets. I will not have this spider spying around my father's home. If Varys finds out who I am, who knows what could happen. We need to protect ourselves Alfred. I am sorry if this will make your duties harder, without any aid."

Alfred smirked, "Well Ser, the lot of them were never very good at cleaning to begin with. So I suppose there will not be as grand of a difference in the amount of dust and cobwebs in this place."

_He's trying to make me feel better, but he knows what I say to be true. We cannot risk any unwanted ears or eyes._

Bruce looked out the window to the sun setting over the bay. _First half-masks, now spiders, what will come next?_

_James_: Chapter 9 

"And no one's laid eyes on him for a week?" James did not know where Batman had gone, but one thing was certain, Gotham _needed_ him. The _Joker_ as he called himself still haunted James, his nightmares and even when he was awake. The pale white skin, the vivid crimson lips, his yellowed teeth when those lips parted into a devilish smile….James tried not to think of it as best he could.

"Well _find him!_" James shouted to the three men standing before him. One slowly took a step forward, "W-What if he's…dead Ser? I saw him with my own eyes that night, he was bleeding heavy. He looked like he could barely stand. What if the wounds…got to him?"

James sighed, this was something he had worried about more with each passing minute over the last week, but never wanted to seriously consider. "If Batman's dead son, then may the Seven watch over us all. Now go."

The three guards left the room. James went over to the small cot in the corner and laid down. He would have to go home soon, James had not seen his daughter in three days. _I'm sorry Barb, I know I should do better, I just don't know how._

He could hardly believe it had already been a week since he first met the mad man with the painted face. He remembered Joker cutting him free from his bonds, and letting James walk away as he proudly examined the fresh corpses he had just made. He heard some more laughing echoing up the stone stairwell as James pushed the door open and felt the warm night air rush over him. James could have tried grabbing a sword from one of the bodies right then and there, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was _afraid,_ something he had not truly felt in years. He worried all the time, about criminals, his family, if he would live to see another day, but he was never truly afraid of any of it. Yet, this stranger clothed in purple and green with a white face, made him feel _fear_ again.

He needed Batman, and he needed him now. Batman would know how to deal with this mad man, more than James would for sure. _It's only been a month and I'm already relying on him like this, what does that say of me? If he truly is dead, what am I to do now…_

James was pulled from his thoughts as he heard a light knock on the door behind him. He turned to see his beautiful daughter standing there in the doorway. She wore an apron with stains and smears spotting it, a pair of dirty old trousers, and her hair was unkempt and fell around her head like an overgrown weed. She was still the prettiest sight James had seen in some time.

He stood and walked over to hug her, "Barb, how are you doing?"

"You do still have matters at home to deal with father, I hope you didn't forget," she said getting straight to the point. She had grown a lot these past few weeks without her mother around. James felt sorry that she needed to grow so quickly, even if she was considered a woman grown by the kingdom's standards.

James sighed, "I know Barb, I was just about to leave for the night to…" Barbara cut him off, "Father, if I can speak plainly."

She continued without him giving leave to speak her mind, "You have barely been home since she left; you've been here almost every night. I'm working days and nights trying to help out and keep myself busy, and our home…it doesn't feel like a home anymore…" Tears dotted the corners of her eyes, as she clenched her jaw not letting herself tear up any more than she already had.

"I need a father again…I know you have a city to protect but…I…" The tears burst and flooded forth as she collapsed into her father's arms. James patted her back as he embraced her, trying to reassure her of something he wasn't even sure of, that everything would be alright.

"Barb…I know it's been difficult, I just haven't had the time…With Batman appearing and then suddenly missing for a week, this Half-Mask assassin making a public display of himself, and now we have bodies showing up all across the Narrows! The night after Half-Mask and Batman fought we found a man with his face melted and seven others dead from knife wounds to the neck. I know you need me, but the city needs me too…I just don't know what to do anymore. I can't be everywhere and helping everyone at once."

His words hung heavy in Barbara's head; her sunken, saddened face showed it. "I know father, I just…the city has half a thousand guards! I only have you…"

James sighed, this wasn't easy. _Nothing_ in his life was lately. "Barb…"

He was interrupted as his second in command, Harvey Bullock, ran into the room. His fat stomach hung out over his trousers and his tunic had a stain from whatever he had been eating. He was inhaling deeply for air, and trying to get his message out. "Ser, there's, b-been, _ugh_, a message from Casterly Rock! L-lord Tywin Lannister is riding for Gotham, Ser! He's bringing a score of his men. It says he plans to address the city's _rodent_ problem…"

James looked from his head captain to the floor, and let out a great sigh. _Damn._


	22. Joker Chp 2: Selina Chp 10:Alfred Chp 10

_Joker_: Chapter 2

"H-he's to arrive five days from now, by land. H-he's bringing a host of five hundred, maybe more…" The guard whimpered as Joker held the knife to his throat, and winced when he pressed it further. A small line of blood trickled down the blade.

"_Ohh_ thank you for being oh so very helpful! I do hate when I don't get invited to these galas, I truly do. And to think, they invited Lord Lion himself, and weren't going to give poor little ole' me an invitation. Oh by the gods it is just cruel!" Joker cried as he pretended to pity himself. He turned from the guard and wandered around the small room they were in. Two brutish thugs each held one of the guard's arms. It was a dark room, with only four candles standing on a table at its center. The light flickered off the guard's armor, and danced in the Joker's bright green eyes.

"What does the old cat want anyways?" Joker asked as he as he flipped the knife from hand to hand as he paced.

"U-Uh I'm not sure, ser, h-he said he was going to deal with the rodents of the city in the message! That's all I know, I swear it!" The man pleaded, tears now running down his cheeks steadily.

"The _rodent problem_! Well that just simply will not do! And if that is the case, then you have lasted your usefulness to our merry cause. I thank you ser, it was, _eye opening!_ _Hahhehehaha_!"

Joker stabbed his knife into one of the man's eyes making him scream in agony until he was suddenly silenced as the blade hit the soft inners within his skull, killing him. As Joker withdrew the knife with a quick jerk, the man's eye clung to the knife, skewered. "_Ugh_ I do hate it when they do that," Joker tossed the knife to one of his henchmen. "Jacen be a dear and clean that off will you? I have a celebration to plan for!"

Joker walked out of the room and into the large hall beyond it. The hall housed upwards eighty scoundrels, deviants and criminals. There were smugglers, rapers, murderers, thieves, even a few trained assassins. He was slowly working his way through the entire criminal network of Gotham. _Only a few more pieces to put into place and then BAM! Joker's ready for the show!_

Now that the lord of Casterly Rock was coming to Gotham, Joker needed to refine his plan. _If the lion bites the head off the bat that will be no fun at all! Leave it to the lords of Westoros to try and ruin my enjoyment, what do they have against fun? _Joker heard that Tywin Lannister had not laughed or even smiled since his wife died, a few decades ago. _Well I'll give the old lion something to smile about, and oh how I do love spreading laughter! Hehehe!_

A second voice emerged from the darkness of his mind. _But what of the Bat? He has not been seen in over a week now, what if he's…_

_NO! He cannot be dead, Slade was not worthy enough to kill him! He is ours, and no one else shall kill him but us! Now speak no more of this folly!_

The other voice said nothing more. Joker hated arguing with his own self, but he could entertain himself more than any of the humorless sheep he was surrounded with. Sure the thieves knew some decent stories, the rapers had some entertaining enough jokes, but none of them had the way with humor he did. _I wonder if Bats will find me funny. If not, I'll cut a smile across his face till he's smiling like the rest of us! Hahaha!_

"Pilo!" Joker shouted as he walked through the hall. A large man slowly parted from the crowd of street-filth. He had a square jaw, a stern face, and a nasty glare. He was made of stone it seemed, and never laughed at any of Joker's jests. But he followed any order he was given, and never questioned it. He would have killed a babe at his mother's breast if Joker asked him to. _Ha, maybe I should just to try it._

"Pilo, I have need of something…special. A desire, an _itch_ if you will." They turned to walk up the stairway leading to the roof.

"What would that be Joker, ser?"

Joker pulled out a small glass bottle from his pocket. It was capped with a cork, and filled with a bright green liquid that was lighter a shade than jade in the sunlight.

"W-wildfire ser?" Wildfire scared many lesser men, Joker knew, people often feared that which they could not understand.

"Close Pilo, but no. Even I'm not mad enough to carry vials of wildfire around. No this is a mixture of my own design, but I will have a great need of those pots that wildfire is typically held in. At least half a century or so I would say."

"Wh-what is it Joker, ser…?"

Joker twirled the jar in his hand around and around, watching the green liquid splash around behind the glass. They reached the roof, and Joker stared out into the city as the moon shone down upon the dark stones of Gotham. "Something that will bring a smile to good ole' Tywin Lannister's face _Hehe_…_HAHAHA!_"

_Selina_: Chapter 10 

It was the night before Tywin Lannister was expected to arrive in Gotham, and Selina ran like the wind. She had stolen two vases, three necklaces, a crown, a gold inlaid dagger, some assorted gemstones and golden ornaments, and upwards twenty gold pieces. Selina figured she should plunder and maraud as much as she could in the week before the lion landed. _And then everything changes, _Selina reminded herself. The Lord of Casterly Rock's arrival could only mean dark things were on the horizon for Gotham and any criminals in it. _Unless he has eyes set solely on Batman._

Batman had still not been seen, and now the city began to buzz with words that he truly did succumb to his wounds. _What a sad thing that would be, the first man to interest me and he dies._ _Well maybe not the first…_

Selina thought of Bruce Wayne again; the confusing, attractive, wealthy lord of Gotham. He had not called on her since the night before Batman and his armored assailant's public duel. The vase he _gave_ her actually sold for thirty gold pieces, but it was how he acted that was on her mind most about that night. _He acted like he knew me, who I was, that I wasn't a highborn lady. As if he knew I were nothing but a street whore…and perhaps Catwoman as well._

Over the last few nights Selina had become more convinced that Bruce Wayne was Batman. She's faked being a dumb whore, why couldn't Batman fake being crippled? Not that it mattered much now, since one or both of them could be dead. Selina almost wished they were the same person. Bruce was nice enough, but a crippled lord would be so _dull_ to fall for.

Selina caught herself, _no, I'm not falling for either of them. I've only seen Bruce a few times and he seems more walled up than King's Landing…and I've only seen Batman once. _She remembered how terrifying he looked that night he saved her, but how awe-stricken she was laying eyes on him for the first time as well. The way the moonlight palely reflected off of his armor and helm, how mysterious and vexing he was, and his eyes. Those _eyes, _and the way they made her spine shiver. How it felt as if he were somehow shedding ice from those dark blue islands amongst the seas of white.

She rounded the corner atop the rooftops, heading past the rows of nefarious hideouts for the thieves, gangs, killers, sellswords, and other devious scum. She reached the _Lion's Den_ and vaulted down through the window into her chambers. She heard the familiar mews and purrs of her babies as she walked in and took her mask off. She poured some milk into a few bowls, some bits of chicken in others. Her children darted in and out between her legs, all wanting to be the first to eat or drink. Isis sat still on her bed however, not moving his little gems of eyes from the corner. Before she could turn to see what the kitten was looking at, she heard that gravelly voice that turned her insides cold but her skin warmer than a flame.

"Lady Kyle, I would suggest you stop these late night adventures before the cat has an unfortunate run in with a lion," Batman said stepping into the moonlight cascading into the room from the window.

Selina swallowed, hesitant and full of worry, before turning to meet her unexpected visitor. "I think the cat worries more about the ghosts of bats than an old lion. I had heard you were dead."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I felt I should warn you before Lannister arrives and tries to change things," Batman bluntly replied. _Always straight to business with this one._

"So you know who I am? How?"

Batman looked around the room, inspecting it. "You seem wealthier than the common street girl, the mud I found in your footprint at the Drakes' castle was the reddish clay only found around the blacksmith in the Narrows, and this place is the closest whorehouse to it. It was you that I saved from those thugs a month ago was it not? You have the same height and lips and a similar voice."

Selina was shocked, how could she have been figured out so quickly…unless. "Yes that was me, but it was you that night right outside of here more than a month ago, wasn't it? The one that saved Holly, fought my girls, and me…"

His silence was enough to confirm it, him turning to face the window to look down at the street even more so. He was tall, taller by a head than Selina, and taller than Lord Wayne to be sure. _But Wayne was hunched over every time I saw him due to that damn cane._

"You had a beard then, but I hear Bruce Wayne did as well. You two showed up at the same time in this city, you wear his sigil across your chest, you disappear when he does, you appear when he doesn't…you _are _him aren't you? You're Bruce Wayne," Selina said resolutely. She watched for a reaction, but was disappointed as Batman did nothing but continue looking out the window. After a few agonizing minutes of quiet, he turned to face her. His head no longer tilted forward as it was when he first fought those thugs to strike fear into them, but instead he stood up straight. They met gazes, Selina hopelessly trying to read his eyes for a reaction or shimmer of emotion.

He inhaled slowly, and then spoke, "Bruce Wayne does nothing but sit in his castle and throw gold at the city hoping to solve its problems with his wealth. He is selfish, arrogant, but above all, he is _afraid_. I won't even speak of how he is crippled and I am clearly not…but what separates that man from me is that he hides behind his walls letting fear rule him. While I wage my war on the streets, I wager my life to protect these people, and will until-"

Selina cut him off, "until you lose your life in the wager."

Batman grew silent, "If that is what it takes."

This man was not Bruce Wayne, it couldn't be him. Batman had the right of it, or so Selina believed. Lord Wayne had done nothing for the city but give gold to Gordon and then proceeded to hide in his castle. _This_ man however, he truly was ready to give his life to this city. She could hear the resolution in his voice. "But why…why give these people your life? What do you owe them? Why sacrifice your life for people you don't even know? Why stand against all of this alone?" She had so many questions, but felt as if she would get little to no answers.

Batman stood in between her and the window, the light from outside lighting up his menacing outline, turning the dark metal a pale silver in the moonlight. He never looked away from her eyes, "Because if I do not stand, no one else_ will._ I will die for those people because they have suffered more hardships than need counting, and not for a king, or war, or to get through to a time of peace and prosperity. They simply suffer, and continue to without an end in sight. They need a symbol to lift them up, to show them that they do not need to be afraid like _Bruce Wayne._ They can stand and fight, and they can have hope again."

Selina just looked on in awe at this masked stranger who was more ready to throw his life down for people he had never met than a knight was for a king he bent the knee to. _If he isn't Bruce Wayne…then who is he…?_ Selina was about to ask, but then she heard Isis mew behind her. She turned to pick up her little kitten that was as black as night. "What happens if you die? No one will know who you are, or what you tried to do for this city."

She did not turn, but heard his voice say from behind her, "They will not know what I tried to do, but what I _did_ do for this city. Whatever that may be."

Selina itched her finger under Isis' neck, and slowly turned. "And people say the life of a whore is lonely…you must be…"

The spot where Batman once stood in front of the window was now vacant, with no signs showing he was ever there in the first place. She walked over to the window and looked out into the street below. Looking at the street illuminated by the torchlight, thinking of everything her guest had said. _Whoever he is, he's a fool._

_Alfred_: Chapter 10

Alfred could see the procession of shimmering crimson enter the city from his place high up on the hill on which Wayne Castle resided. _It must be upwards six centuries of men._ Alfred had become well practiced at guessing an enemy's numbers from his years on the battlefield in his youth. Tywin Lannister had arrived, and with a sizeable armada at his back.

It was a rather pleasant day, the sun was shining down upon the city and its guests, the sky had but a few clouds in it. The town all looked on in awe from the street sides and windows as the waves of Lannister men proceeded through the city. Gotham was always far away from the fighting and destruction of war, so both boys and even some men had likely never seen an army such as this. Six centuries of men would not be much on the battlefield to be certain, but in a city such as this they were a rather large spectacle to behold.

Master Bruce stood to Alfred's left, leaning his weight on his best black-stained oak cane. He wore a solid black doublet with gold trim sewn to appear as vines climbing up the center of his chest. His family's sigil was flapping its wings on his breast, golden and slightly unnerving to look at. Alfred's uneasiness of bats still spawned from that night in Thomas Wayne's study, where he gazed into the creature's black, all-consuming eyes from atop his former master's marble head.

Bruce still wore bandages and wrappings under his garments for he had torn some of his stitches when he decided to return to the city as Batman the night before. His thigh wound and the other cuts had healed rather finely, but he had reopened the gash in his side last night. Every breath most likely sent waves of pain through Bruce, but if it did he did not show it.

Master Richard was to his right, and looked almost as uneasy as Bruce. He wore black breeches with a pale gold doublet, the flying robin of house Grayson stitched onto it. Dick knew little of the happenings of the lords of Westoros, but even he knew of Lord Tywin Lannister.

Tywin Lannister was as powerful a man as he was rich. He was the pinnacle of renown and sovereignty. Even in Alfred's day the name Tywin Lannister made people weary and cautious. The man had a mind for strategy, battle, and _surviving._ Alfred agreed with most of Gotham, that the lord of lions' unexpected visit was not something that would bring good tidings to the city.

As was custom, the visiting lord was to stay in the residing lord's castle, where he would eat and drink to his heart's content under his host's roof. This made Alfred, Lucius, but most of all Bruce, very uneasy. With everything that had transpired over the past month, and with the hidden lair of the Batman laid directly beneath the castle, hosting Lord Tywin would make things difficult. Alfred could only hope Casterly Rock would have too many matters of its own that needed settling, and the lion lord would leave Gotham to its own ends.

After near half an hour of standing still and waiting, the parade of Lannisters finally rose over the crest of the hill heading towards the castle. Lord Tywin was at the crimson river's front, wearing his crimson and gold armor with his lion's head helm in his hand. His scalp was completely bald. Golden side-whiskers sprouted from his jawline, streaks of gray running through them. His eyes were stern and piercing, his mouth tightened into an apathetic straight line. The old lion's skin was crinkled around his eyes and mouth; his eyes were sunken with age. He looked older, but not decrepit in the slightest. He rode a strong white destrier with a gray mane that looked as noble as its rider. When they were near two dozen paces from where the three residents of Wayne Castle stood waiting, the procession came to a halt.

Lord Tywin looked down upon Alfred and his two masters from atop his white horse, before shouting with a great level of authority in his voice. "Good day Lord Wayne. I thank you for giving us the pleasure of visiting this fine city, giving roofs over our heads to stay the rain, and food and mead in our stomachs as a sign of your graciousness."

Alfred listened to the words, but knew the whole time what it truly was, a display of power. Lord Tywin had something planned, and may the Seven help them when they learnt what it was. Bruce bowed as best he could, the wound in his side undoubtedly searing with pain at the movement.

"My thanks my lord, your men are welcomed to make camp here, outside my castle walls, if it please you. I shall have servants bring food to them, they must be starved. You and your officers may share my castle with me. I would be very pleased to sup with you tonight," Bruce said calmly, not letting the pain be seen through his voice.

Lord Tywin did not dismount to shake hands or embrace his host as was custom, but slowly trotted forward. "Lord Wayne, I would prefer if I could speak to the people of the city this evening. I believe there are words that need to be said to calm them in these despairing times, and that is something that cannot wait. We will sup tomorrow evening to be sure, but may I ask if you could dispatch word to your people that I wish to address them this evening at nightfall?"

_And there it is_, Lord Tywin planned to usurp Bruce as the beacon of the city. He wanted to be the one for the smallfolk to look to, since Bruce had done so little in the city by day. _By night however, Batman gives them hope, and assuredly Tywin plans to take that away too._

Bruce smiled and nodded, "At once my lord. Would you like to rest before you speak? I have several guest chambers prepared for you to choose from."

Tywin gave a small shake of his head. "No, my servants will move my things into my temporary quarters, but I will stay among my men until it is time for me to speak to Gotham. Ser Borsan, stay here and see that the servants don't drop any of my belongings. Thank you for your hospitality my lord."

The man to his right dismounted with a simple "Aye my lord," and set about directing the servants. Ser Borsan was a scrawny bone of a man, lacking any of the muscle or girth that still clung to his lord's old bones. Tywin watched for a few moments, and then nodded to his lieutenant. With that, Tywin Lannister turned his horse and led his men back down the hill from whence they came. Alfred was shocked at how Lord Tywin had practically spit upon the common etiquette of being a guest, and looked to Bruce to see if he was offended. Bruce's face said nothing, no emotion leaked, and the man silently turned and limped back into the castle.

Bruce would be expected to attend Lord Tywin's speech no doubt, and would most likely sit behind him as the lord of the city should when his guest wishes to speak. Alfred was still bothered though. The lord of Casterly Rock comes with only a week's notice, brings more than half a thousand men at arms, and then spits in the face of his host. Grim things were on the horizon, and Alfred was weary of the type of dawn the horizon would bring.

Dick quickly went to his room quietly, as Alfred followed the lord of the castle up to his chambers. Once inside Bruce immediately stripped off his garments, revealing a reddened bandage clinging to his side. "Hurts like a bitch it does. Alfred, be a saint and change the damn bandages for me, and pour whatever that mixture you concocted over it again as well," Bruce said laying his cane on the bed and walking over to the fireplace opposite it.

Alfred did as his master bid, while Bruce stood with his arms raised, staring into the fire crackling in the marble hearth. Alfred cleared his throat, "Master Bruce, be weary of this man. He is as cunning as Rha's Al Ghul and just as dangerous to you when in your family's castle. There is a reason he has become the wealthiest and most powerful lord in Westoros and has sat atop Casterly Rock for longer than I've been serving your family."

Bruce smiled. "I'm well aware that Tywin Lannister is a threat Alfred, but he is a shadow compared to Rha's. We are beyond the spider's eyes now that you've sent the remaining servants we had home. Did you take on the new ones the way I asked?"

Alfred nodded, "Yes Master Bruce, a hundred capable hands straight off the ships that landed this past week. A gold piece a mouth so long as they stay shut."

Bruce lowered his arms once Alfred had finished wrapping the new bandages around his stomach. "Good. As for this lion of Casterly Rock, I know why he is here, and it is more than giving Gotham hope or trying to show he wields more power. He's here because of the Half-Mask."

Alfred was confused. "Why? Because he was from Casterly Rock?"

Bruce began changing into a new, more comfortable black tunic with red trim and buttons. "Because Deathstroke, or Slade, was Tywin's best assassin. If he ever needed a man whether he was a peasant or a lord killed, Tywin called on him. Deathstroke was much quieter than the Mountain or any of Tywin's other creatures, and that is something he is greatly wanting of I imagine. Slade also trained Jaime Lannister, or so he said. I have not heard of what became of him since the night of our duel."

It was true, this Deathstroke had seemingly vanished without a trace. The guards that were tasked with bringing him back to the city's jail were found dead in an alley the next morning. Alfred hoped he was dead, for if he was alive he would only become an even deadlier threat should Bruce and him cross paths again.

"So if Tywin is here to see what happened to his prized assassin, what are you going to do, ser?"

Bruce looked out the window as the sun grew closer to touching the watery horizon of the sea. "I wait Alfred. I cannot do much else on the matter. I lay in wait, and plan. When Tywin Lannister plays his hand, I will play mine."

_So there you have it, the second character from Game of Thrones comes to Gotham! I appreciate and will respond to any and all reviews whether it's how I handle my portrayals of the Batman characters or the Game of Thrones ones, things I could do better or clarify, or even if it's just to say you like or hate the story! Next week, Gordon adapts to Tywin's arrival and Lord Tywin delivers his speech to Gotham!_


	23. Richard Chp 9: Bruce Chp 12: James Chp10

_**Richard**_: Chapter 9 

Nightwing cawed as he walked into the room. Dick shut the door behind him. He could care less that Lord Tywin was here for who knew how long. He was just another old lord sitting on a pile of gold. Dick's thoughts were still on Bruce, and how bruised and bandaged he was lying in his bed when Dick walked in on Alfred and him.

Dick had felt alone since his parents' death, but he had managed to find some solace in Alfred and Bruce. But now that they were lying to him, keeping him at a distance from whatever secrets they were hiding, Dick felt even more alone. His warm delusion shattered before his eyes, and now he just laid coldly and alone in the pieces. He had not felt like climbing in days, deciding to just wander around the castle with Nightwing on his shoulders. He climbed to the roof a few times, to gaze out at the bay. The waves crashing into the base of the cliffs that surrounded the water like a crescent moon. The ports bustled with ships and merchants outside the tall city wall that separated the ships and beach from the city. Nightwing would try flapping his wings to chase the horizon, but could still not take flight. Dick knew the feeling all too well.

Last night though, he had heard something when he was heading to his chambers to sleep. It was late, and Dick thought not even Alfred would be awake at that hour. He heard a sound from Bruce's father's study, but not something like whispered talking or footsteps. It was the sound of wood, sliding against something. It wasn't wood or metal, but perhaps stone Dick figured. The sound of something dragging across smooth…marble, like the one the fireplace in the study was built from.

Dick had wanted to sneak into the room to better inspect it, but the room was locked day and night now that there were a century of servants hustling and strolling through the halls. Cleaning, dusting, preparing or serving food, fetching something for Alfred, it went all day and well into the night. The sound of metal on metal and the smells of cooking beef, or pork, or of the stews and soups, or even the smell of bread being baked ceaselessly assaulted Dick's senses.

Dick would have to wait until after Lord Tywin departed from Wayne Castle to investigate what was lying in that room, and what secrets Bruce was hiding. He didn't know why they were lying to him, but it hurt all the same. If they cared not to tell him, then Dick would find them out himself.

A few times, Dick thought to himself that Bruce could be Batman. The last time he had seen his host whole was the afternoon before Batman fought _Deathstroke_, as the city folk were calling him. But Bruce was seen so erratically that Dick had no way of knowing for sure exactly when Bruce sustained those wounds that kept him confined to his bed. One week Dick would see him every day, others he would see him twice or thrice in passing.

Alfred was always the one to keep Dick company, but now he was busy watching over the servants they took on to help for Lord Tywin's stay. Dick knew there was Lucius if he was truly lonely and bored, but he could never find the man. He seemed to be in an isolated corner of the castle all his own. Although Dick did not know what he could do all day to make him more absent than even Bruce was.

Dick left his room with Nightwing perched on his shoulder, and walked to the terrace at the back of the castle on the second floor overlooking the bay. He jumped onto the stone bannister that surrounded the terrace, and leapt to the tree next to it. Then he climbed up through the branches until he was level with the third floor of the castle. He jumped across the open air to the nearest gargoyle, one of his hands caught in its mouth while the other gripped the creature's outstretched claw. Nightwing screeched as it struggled to hold on, and ruffled its feathers in irritation as Dick climbed from the gargoyle to stand on the roof.

Alfred had a special boiled leather vest tailored with a thick leather padding on the shoulders so Nightwing's talons wouldn't dig into Dick's shoulders painfully. He took a slice of chicken from his pocket and held it up to Nightwing's beak. The bird looked at the meat quizzically before striking its beak out in an instant, snatching up the meat and swallowing it down whole.

"Whatever it is Nightwing, I'll figure it out. Whatever they're hiding from me, it won't be a secret for long." Dick stood and watched the sun set for near half an hour, turning the sky a pale orange as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. It was time for Lord Tywin's speech to the city, so Dick climbed back down and returned to his room to dress.

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 12 

The city folk had gathered on the field where Haley's Circus had once entertained them with elephants and dancing bears, only to mortify them later with two murders under the same tent. Bruce knew it would be difficult for Dick to face this field again, but he had to be at Bruce's side as his ward. The city folk flowed up the hill as they had for the circus, and pooled before where the circus' main ring once stood.

Bruce, Dick, Lord Tywin, Ser Borsan, and a few of Lord Tywin's other officers sat atop a quickly constructed wooden platform at the head of the crowd. The platform was surrounded by thirty Lannister soldiers fully clad in armor. The smallfolk looked on in both anticipation, and fear.

Tywin Lannister rose from his seat and raised a hand to quiet the buzzing of the crowd. The crowd of more than eight thousand quieted at once, and Lord Tywin began speaking in a booming and commanding voice. "People of Gotham! You know who I am, where I hail from, what I have the power to do! And I promise you, I will help your city climb from this dark pit it is in and join the rest of Westoros in the light! The almighty Lord Tyrell doesn't seem interested to remove himself from his flowered throne in Highgarden to aid you! But not I, no _I _have come to give you all hope! You need a man who can lead you, who can help you! Not one that hides his face in the shadows!"

_And there it _is. The whole point of this speech is to make the people look up to Tywin as a savior and abandon their hope of Batman saving the city. _Clever, if not predictable._

Lord Tywin continued, "This Batman that I've heard so much about is no hero to you. Where is he now? He has been absent for how long? Three weeks? And none of you know whether he is to return or not! What kind of savior is that, I pray you? Not only does he hide in the shadows like a common criminal, but he disappears without giving any of you notice of whether he will return to protect you or not. What kind of _savior_ would do such a foolish thing? You should not have to worry whether your protector will be there to save you or not!"

The crowd looked on in awe, all of their eyes locked on the old lion pacing back and forth on the platform. He continued again, "You need someone who is there for you! Who can help you, protect you, and not leave you when it becomes too tiresome, as this pathetic excuse for a hero has! And as a measure of my good graces, anyone that has sighted the Batman or knows information of him or where he hides will be rewarded handsomely. Ser Borsan!"

Lord Tywin's lietenant rose and held up a small sack in his hand. He drew his dagger and slit it along the bottom, letting gold coins pour from it and to the platform's wooden floor. Then Borsan threw the bag out into the crowd as people rushed to grab any piece they could get their hands on.

"Any useful information on the Batman will be rewarded with a dozen gold dragons! I doubt your fabled savior could match such a price with you! So tell me people of Gotham! Do you want this selfish, untrustworthy, craven Batman to save you? Or I, who gifts you promises of gold, protection, and a vivid idea of what my face truly looks like!"

The crowd roared. He had won them over with ease. Bruce could see Alfred looking aghast up at the stage, his eyes going from Lord Tywin to Bruce. Bruce gave him a small discreet nod, trying to alleviate any worry the Dornishman had. Bruce knew what Tywin had planned, it wasn't particularly hard to guess.

The city had no idea whether Batman was alive or dead since his duel with Deathstroke. They were still scared, nor knew who Batman was, some believing he was still only a myth. But most importantly, Tywin was a man with gold and manpower. Of course the hopeless smallfolk gripped by fear would choose Lord Tywin over a mysterious figure that had only appeared but recently.

_You have played your hand Lord Tywin, and now it is time to play mine._ Bruce sat with no emotion showing on his face, save for a smile as he applauded along with the rest of Gotham at Lord Tywin's speech. Tywin turned to Bruce to look for a reaction, but turned back quickly to the crowd when he saw Bruce cheering him on with the rest of the onlookers. Lord Tywin was not finished yet. "I will have my men help protect you! I will have my esteemed knight Ser Borsan help your beloved Ser James Gordon keep watch over this city and keep the criminals in their place! From this night forward, any man caught raping will have his manhood removed! Anyone found thieving or stealing, will lose their hands! Killers will be hung naked in the streets! And you will all be able to sleep in the safety of your chambers peacefully and without worry for your lives!"

The crowd roared more, somewhere in the mass of people James Gordon was fuming like boiling water to be sure. James had but five or six centuries of men, nothing compared to the massive armies the lord of Casterly Rock could summon. So for now Bruce knew Gordon would have to play along with Tywin's game. Lord Tywin turned back to Bruce with what could almost be called a small smile or at the very least a sneer of pride, and a look in his eye of domination. _So he not only intends to usurp Batman, but Bruce Wayne as well. He is a bold man, and smart, but his pride will cost him dearly. _

Lord Tywin departed from the stage without Bruce's consent, but instead accompanied with cheers of "Lannister!" and "Casterly Rock!" echoing from the crowd. Ser Borsan quickly fell in step behind him, leaving Bruce and Dick to stand and see themselves off the stage. Lord Tywin mounted his white steed and returned to his men's encampment as a beloved hero, while Bruce limped to his carriage and was carted off as a man who had just been shamed publicly in front of thousands. As they rode in silence, Alfred would occasionally look up from the street to gaze worriedly at Bruce.

_He worries himself a great deal more than he needs to, _but Bruce still wanted to put his old friend at ease. "Don't worry Alfred, it will all be fine."

"_Fine?_ The man has the audacity to storm into your city, shame you with such blatant disrespect, take control of the city watch with an iron fist, make the city live under his own rules of who lives and who dies! And you tell me it will be _fine?!_" Alfred was upset greatly Bruce could see, but he only replied with a smirk.

"They say Lord Tywin Lannister shits gold Alfred, I'm sure you've heard that, Dick you might not have. But yes, they say the lord of Casterly Rock shits his own wealth."

Alfred now looked confused. "Ser…what is your point? Obviously he doesn't, so how does a fool's jape help you now?"

"What do they say of Bruce Wayne, Alfred?"

"That…you are a shut in? Afraid to face the world? Still haunted by the ghosts of your parents, the same scared boy you were when you left…?"

Bruce smiled, "And who would have more to lose, and who more to gain, Alfred? The man who is said to shit gold, or the man who has been in darkness since he arrived at the city?"

Alfred sat back in his seat, thinking over what he had just heard. Dick looked even more confused. Bruce for once was the one at peace, as he stared out into the night with a smile on his face. _I know not how this will end Tywin, but it will not end with you ruling this city._

_**James**_: Chapter 10 

James knew not whether to call Lord Tywin Lannister's assistance a nightmare or a gift from the gods. For the past five nights he had been able to go home and sup with his daughter instead of hunting criminals from dusk until dawn. It felt good to see his daughter for longer than a rushed and fleeting supper once a week.

Ser Borsan had taken on a good share of James' daily duties and chores, giving James more time to himself. Borsan seemed like a straight enough fellow, he always was respectful and never tried to cross any of James' orders. The man had proved quite invaluable to James. He was dependable, skilled with a blade, and entertaining. Unlike most of James' men, Borstan had a rather good sense of humor. He told jokes he had heard from the taverns and whorehouses of Casterly Rock that made James laugh for the first time in what must have been years.

He still was not certain as to how effective Lord Tywin's new rules would be, but James was not opposed to them. Even if the rules were only enforced for Tywin's stay, they might be enough to strike fear into the criminals of Gotham again. Since Batman had been missing for some time, the criminals began growing bolder once more.

So far Borsan and his Lannister soldiers had lopped off the hands of four thieves, hung six killers, and gelded ten rapers. While James wasn't overly fond of the brutal tactics, they seemed to be slowly working. The city loved Tywin Lannister and his gifts of gold, and James could understand why. _But am I jumping from a bed with a masked threat I do not know to a bed with a threat with a face and an army at his back?_

Lord Tywin had given him fifty gold pieces for his troubles since starting his duty twenty years ago and another twenty for allowing his men to share the city guard's various keeps scattered throughout the city. Ser Borsan had the chambers to the right of James so they could coordinate with a greater ease.

James looked out at the bay from his hillside home as the moon shown down on the water making it brighten to a light blue as it shimmered in the light. The city walls only reached across the sand, separating the beach and port from the city. They ended as the cliffs rose up on either side. Since James' cottage was so high up on the cliff's face, the wall ended two hundred paces to his right, leaving James' view of the bay undisturbed. He often came out here to clear his mind when he found the time. So much had happened so quickly that he had so little peace and quiet to fully take it all in. Bruce Wayne returning, the Grayson murders, his wife leaving him, Deathstroke, the Joker… It was a lot for any one man to deal with, let alone someone as tired as James. _I never did get to tell Batman about Joker…oh well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. What with Lord Tywin coming to decimate crime himself._ As James turned to go inside, he was met with an unexpected sight. Standing but ten paces from him, was Batman.

James couldn't help but smirk, "So you disappear for weeks without a word, and then suddenly reappear as if some damn warlock summoned you. _Heh_, I don't know how much longer I can handle all of this."

Batman stepped closer to James until he was at his side, looking out at the bay as he had. "I'm…sorry, for disappearing."

James shrugged, "I heard your brawl with this Deathstroke or Half-Mask or whatever you bloody call him ended roughly for both sides, but I wouldn't worry about it now anyways. Not with Tywin Lannister, the lord of gold, coming to save us. You have the pleasure of talking to him?"

Batman didn't move. "Not yet."

James raised an eyebrow. "But you plan on it? You know, I could get in a lot of trouble with our new guests if people caught word that I had spoken with you."

Batman replied in his dark voice, "You won't tell them. Tywin is only trying to turn the people against me, and Wayne for whatever reason."

James shrugged again, "Eh, lords get in pissing contests all the time. You know why he suddenly decided to see fit to visit our fair city?"

Batman turned to him, matching gazes. "Deathstroke was Tywin's best and most hidden weapon. He was an assassin, and a highly skilled one at that. Since your men escorting him were killed, no one knows what has happened to him."

James let out a great sigh, swallowed, and mustered all the strength he could. "He's dead, killed, right in front of me." Batman looked as close to shocked as James was likely ever to see him. His eyes widened for a split second, but his mouth never left its tight, thin-lipped position. James continued, "I haven't told everyone the full story, I struggled to think anyone would believe me if I did. The night I was taken, the night you fought Deathstroke, some thug of Falcone's took me into some underground hideout they had in the Narrows. When I woke up, they dragged in your friend, looked like he'd been beaten within an inch of his life. Our captor told him how he failed Falcone, and how they don't take kindly to failure. They tied him up like I was. All the while he was spouting how Batman wasn't human, how it did not count as a failure. Then, the two guards outside of the door cried out in pain. Our captor strolled over to the door to see what happened, but when he peered out, he was given a knife right between the eyes."

Gordon took another deep breath, "The man that walked in, was even more unnerving than seeing you for the first time. His face was a pale white, I couldn't tell if it was paint or not. His lips were red, like blood. He had green hair, finely cut too but unruly. He was wearing some light violet garments, but what I remember most was his _laugh._ It sounded…I can't even begin to describe it. The type of laugh a man makes when he's close to death and knows it, but laughs to mock the gods regardless. It made my spine turn to ice, his laugh was enough to make me afraid. He walked over to the Half-Mask, asking him what you were like, how you _danced_ as he put it. When he didn't like the answer, he slit Deathstroke's throat, laughing and saying how he wasn't worthy to face you. Then he came over to me, said he'd let me go as long as I got you a message. He says the 'Clown king of crime is here' and he's going to bring Gotham to ruin. He said his name was _The Joker._"

Batman turned out to the sea waving and crashing beneath them. He stayed like that for a few minutes, his eyes fluttering slightly as they tried keeping up with the pace of his mind. "Tywin and this Joker are going to collide in a battle of madness and power, chaos against order, and Gotham will be the one to pay. We have to stop this."

Gordon sighed and shook his head slowly. "I…I can't get involved in this one. Lord Tywin and his men are _succeeding_. Criminals are afraid again, they fear order and law, not just one man who would strike at them out of the shadows. Lord Tywin is giving them something…_real_ to fear. I'm sorry, your heart is in the right place, but you are only one man. Tywin has gold, men, swords, the people, all of that on his side. What do you have?"

When James turned back to Batman, he was gone. _Bats versus clowns versus lions, and I'm caught in the middle of it._


	24. Bruce Chp 13:Selina Chp 11:Richard Chp10

_**Bruce**__: _Chapter 13 

"Lord Wayne, I think it is time we held a grand feast. One to celebrate how well my men along with the city guard have cleaned the streets of your city," Lord Tywin said as he cut into the slab of cooked beef on his plate. This was the fourth time Tywin and Bruce had had supped together since the lord and his men arrived nearly a month ago. Every time was just as unpleasant as the last. Lord Tywin was not arrogant like his son Jaime, or as devious as Tyrion, but he was cunning, and very confident in himself.

Crime had gone down some degree since he arrived. Murders were now only half as prevalent as they had been, rapes a third, thieving was barely noticeable in its change but that was because thieves were rather crafty deviants to begin with. Twenty four men laid handless and seven women, thirty seven men were gelded, and fifty three men laid dead. Bruce had counted and would remember every last one.

"A feast my lord? If your men are feasting who would be watching over the city, _Ha!_" Bruce jested. Lord Tywin's face remained solemn as always, Bruce enjoyed taunting the old lord. Tywin never replied with any humor, or so much as a smirk, but Bruce always found pleasure in making the old man feel irritated with his relaxed, flippant demeanor.

"It would be for your city folk my lord. A fort night from tonight. We shall hold it on the field where I gave my speech since this feasting hall is nowhere near large enough. If we were in Casterly Rock, we could feed half of your people under my roof and the other half could feast in the gardens and squares surrounding my keep." _Oh how he does love to boast about his size, but size and strength means so little when compared to efficiency and speed._

"Aye my lord, then perhaps we should move all of Gotham to Casterly Rock so you can feed them there as you so graciously put it," Bruce replied with a smile. He could tell he was getting under the old lion's skin.

"You remind me of my son Lord Wayne, in more ways than one," Tywin stated plainly, glaring up from his plate.

"_Ha!_ Well I always was told that I was rather handsome, and I suppose wielding a sword is similar to wielding a cane. Although I've never killed a king before," Bruce said, ever smiling.

_That_ one hurt close to the heart for Tywin. His momentary hesitation in responding and blinking thrice in a second showed it. Bruce had caught him off guard.

"I was referring to my half of a son, the one that takes nothing in his life seriously. Focusing instead on follies such as whoring and drinking, making him shame the name of his family."

Bruce could tell the man was trying to return the wounded favor, but he saw through the old lord's words as if they were air. Lord Tywin may have the city convinced, but Bruce knew exactly why the lion lord was here, and that humiliating Bruce in whichever way possible made him feel all that much closer to achieving it. Bruce shook his head in feigned disbelief, "Oh my lord how you hurt me with such cruel words. Just because I am a cripple does not make me as low of a man as a dwarf, for my legs are still their normal length despite not standing as strong as they once were."

Bruce enjoyed this verbal dueling the two lords had, but eventually Tywin would grow tired of it and return to his men's camps. "Well my lord, I've had my fill for tonight, only so much unnecessary taste one can handle. There is far too much seasoning in this meat. I shall go see my men before retiring for the evening." The old lord rose from his chair and locked eyes with Bruce.

Bruce cut another piece of his beef and quickly shoved it in his mouth. He began to speak with his mouth half full of meat. "Well my lord, I suppose some things in life are acquired tastes. Some men prefer meat in their mouths, some men prefer meat elsewhere. I do hope you enjoy the joys of the city my lord. I hear it can grow quite dull and lonely out on the road with nothing but soldiers to entertain you."

Lord Tywin turned without another word and quickly removed himself from the hall. Bruce finished his supper and retired to his father's study. Lucius was there peering over pieces of parchment with drawings and plans sketched on them. He looked up when he heard the doors close and lock. Bruce walked over to his father's chair and sat down, looking into the fire dancing within the hearth.

"So how was our esteemed guest?" Lucius asked as he walked over and sat in the chair beside Bruce.

"Solemn and irritable as usual. Tonight I jested that his son was not a true man for being an imp and that he beds his soldiers," Bruce said as a smile cracked across his lips.

Lucius laughed, "_Ha!_ Well that's right and good Master Wayne. You're sure to convince him to leave Gotham that way. But I would urge you to take care, I'm sure you have heard of that old phrase about pulling a lion's tale. How have your nights been?"

Bruce's smile left his face, "Irritating. I strike when and where I can, taking care never to be sighted or stay in one place for long. But I do not leave them bound for the guards to find, for I know they would only be maimed or killed. So I catch them, beat them, see what information I can get out of them and let them go. I would rather set criminals free than leave them to Lord Tywin's judgment. I know I must wait, but I'm still uncertain as for what. The city has turned against Batman, so publicly appearing in the night would do nothing but help Tywin win more than he already has. I need to wait for something to go wrong…I'm just not certain if it will. He has renown, a small army, wealth…I don't see criminals getting the upper hand in this fight."

Lucius smiled. "Men in power always have something wrong happen when they least expect or want it to. Just give it time Bruce. Any word of this _Joker_ Gordon told you about?"

Bruce thought of the night when he spoke with Ser Gordon last. "No, none of the thieves or whores I've overheard in my time disguised as a beggar has even mentioned him. Nor the men I've questioned as Batman. One thug said they saw him kill a man, but he knew nothing more. _Ha_, Bruce Wayne is confined by his cane, and Batman by a lion's roar. But disguised, I am free to roam about the city as I care to."

"He must have something planned in that oddly colored head of his, gods help us when we find out what," Lucius stated looking concerned for the first time in a long time.

"He wants a feast to be held. He wants it to be held two weeks from now on the fields where he gave his awe-inspiring speech to help save the city. Do you find it to be a good idea?"

Lucius thought for a moment. "Well either way, he'll get a feast if he wants one. We _could _spin it in our favor however…" Lucius' famous smile returned to his lips.

Bruce smiled, "What did you have in mind ser?"

_**Selina**__:_ Chapter 11 

Luckily, Selina had enough gold to get by comfortably without having to return to her life as a whore for at least a year. With Tywin Lannister's new rules, thieves lost their hands should they be caught, and Selina thought she had enough gold for the risk to be not worth the reward. Although, the safety made her daily life incredibly dull. She spent all day tending to her cats, or wandering around the city streets to hear the latest gossip and tales the ladies of Gotham had to offer.

Yesterday she even spied Ser Gordon and Lannister's cohort Ser Borsan wandering the streets. Gordon looked rather cheery for a man whose wife had just left him over a month ago. Selina couldn't say how Ser Borsan was for he always seemed to be wearing his lion sculpted helm, as most Lannister soldiers did when patrolling. He was a gaunt little man, but rather tall, taller than even Gordon by a few inches. _How does a stick like that become the great Lord Tywin's right hand man?_

The rest of Lord Tywin's men had taken the north-most keep along with the keep directly outside the Narrows as their own. The main keep of the City Watch was shared between the guards and Lannister soldiers along with the one nearest the city's main square. The Lannister men seemed like typical soldiers, drunk by night in brothels and alehouses, and trudging around the city like they owned it by day. They bored Selina incredibly.

Some nights Selina came close to taking to the rooftops as Catwoman simply out of pure boredom. One night she had gone so far as to get dressed in the black leather outfit with her mask half on her head before realizing it was too dangerous of a folly. The streets were not safe for a criminal, even a simple thief. Selina had never smuggled, only killed one man who refused to let her be and would have killed her after forcing himself on her. She only did what she needed to get by. Why was that a crime?

There had been no word of Batman for weeks, but she knew he was still out there. _He's planning something…but what?_ Selina did not know how Batman planned to counter Lord Tywin's well thought out campaign against him. Bruce Wayne stayed in his castle as always, avoiding Tywin's onslaught by hiding. _Well Batman certainly had the right of him._

Selina wasn't sure how Lord Tywin's war on crime in Gotham would end, or even why he felt it was his to fight. She did know however, that it would not end well for anyone even associated with crime in this city. Luckily, everyone else thought her but a dumb whore, only Batman knew she was Catwoman. _Suppose I should be grateful he doesn't talk much._

Isis and her newest kitten Meelo mewed from behind her. She turned and scooped each up in an arm and went to sit down in her crimson leather chair in the corner of her room. "Ohh hello my little sweetlings, oh Isis how big you've gotten! My strong little soldier. And Meelo you are simply precious!"

Meelo was the direct opposite of Isis' color, with a coat as white as snow and light blue pearls for eyes. His nose was pink, and he had bushier fur than Isis as well. His mews were lighter in tone but happened much more frequently since he was still so young. Isis had already grown considerably since Selina had found him. He was big enough to stalk the mice coming through the hole in the corner of the room now.

She heard a cry outside, and jumped from her chair to beside the window. Holly was down in the street trying to sweeten a man but some smugglers had interrupted. They had her by the neck, the man she was talking to before was already running down the street terrified.

Selina leapt from the window, and reached her arms out to grab a flag pole jutting out from the building next to the _Lion's Den._ She swung and released in an instant and rolled to the ground below. She turned to face the smugglers, there were three of them. Selina ran at them and took the middle sized one from behind unawares. She drew her knife from her belt and jabbed it into the man's side making him cry out in agony. She spun around him and took another one out with a stab to his groin.

She caught her momentum forward and slowed, and turned back to the thug with a knife to Holly's throat. _How in the name of the Seven did Batman do this?_ She dared not throw her blade, knowing she lacked the accuracy Batman had when he rescued her in a similar situation. Her best option was enticing him to lower his defenses.

She put her finger to her lips and a hand to her hip. "Well now ser, you seem to be the _biggest_ man I've laid eyes on in a while. For you, I could lower the price to five copper pieces for a night you shall not forget in this life…"

The man smiled, "Sorry bitch, I don't have time for the likes of you. I just wanted some quick pussy before we set sail tonight, but seeing as how you've gone and ruined that for us."

The man drew his blade across Holly's throat, blood spurting out in a mist of crimson. Selina's eyes opened wide in disbelief, her pupils contracted in sorrow, and white hot rage burned through her mind like wildfire. She did not remember the rest of what transpired, it was a foggy blur in her mind. She remembered sprinting at Holly's murderer, stabbing him repeatedly in the face and throat, making it unrecognizable after the fifteenth wound. It didn't even look human after the fortieth. She stabbed each of the other two smugglers multiple times as well, but those were concentrated in the groin and chests. Her face, body, and arms were covered in the men's blood. She remembered laying in the pool of collected blood, Holly's body lying in her arms. Then the guards came, standing aghast at the scene for a few moments before Ser Borsan arrived and reminded them of their duties.

Now she sat in a cell, light coming in through a small barred window in the wall that Selina sat against. It didn't illuminate the dark stoned cell by much, but Selina didn't care. She felt numb, and cold. She was bathed and forced to change into a plain wool tunic and breeches, just so the other prisoners wouldn't rouse at the sight of so much blood. _And this is how the cat's lives run out._

_**Richard**_: Chapter 10 

Dick had never spoken to Lord Tywin, nor been in his presence aside from the first night he had arrived. Bruce said Dick need not go to their suppers, so Dick would eat in his room or in the side feasting hall with Alfred. He never spoke more than a few words for he still did not trust the servant like he had when he first arrived. He still didn't trust Bruce either, but he had barely seen him since the Lannister forces arrived.

Dick climbed down from the roof as night began to fall across the sky, and stood on the balcony to watch the ocean darken from a light shade of blue to an opaque black. He walked inside, Nightwing perched on his shoulder as he always was. His wing had healed, but he still could not seem to fly. Alfred said it was probably because the bird was afraid, of falling or being struck down again, he did not know. Dick understood the fear of falling, it kept him from trying to fly as well.

He rounded the corner hurriedly lost in thought and collided head first with dark crimson metal. Dick fell to the ground landing on his rear while Nightwing leapt from Dick's shoulders to a nearby chair before the boy hit the floor. Dick looked up from Nightwing staring at him to the man he had run into. Tywin Lannister's face looked even more solemn in the torchlight, and certainly more menacing.

Dick brought himself to his feet and bowed, "I'm sorry m'lord, I should have been more careful. I pray for your forgiveness if it please you."

Tywin's face remained unchanged. "You are the circus boy that Wayne took in when your parents died, yes?"

Dick blinked, he had not been expecting the great Lord Tywin to ask him a question so personal. He nodded, "Yes my lord."

Tywin turned and began walking down the hall with his hands locked at the wrist behind his back. "Walk with me boy."

Dick let Nightwing jump to his shoulder and quickstepped until he was at Lord Tywin's side as they walked down the hall. Torches dotted the walls as they went. The lion's side whiskers shimmered silver in the light each time they passed a torch. His gait was determined and powerful, much as the man was himself. His head hung forward as if to permanently glare, and he never looked away from the hallway before him.

"So tell me boy, how is it being the mysterious Lord Wayne's ward?"

Dick thought a moment. "It is fine m'lord, he treats me well and feeds me. Lets me keep Nightwing so long as I take care of it."

"Ah yes, I heard of your bird. It's a lovely creature, good coloration, strong looking, loyal to be sure," the old lion replied. Dick wondered how Lord Tywin had gathered all of that from one quick glance. Lord Tywin continued, "What's wrong with his wing?"

Dick stroked a finger under Nightwing's neck caressing the soft white feathers that covered his belly. "He was attacked by a larger hawk, when we found him his wing was bloodied and torn. Alfred helped sew him up, but now whether he wants to fly or not is up to him I suppose."

Lord Tywin looked down at Dick and his bird. His eyes were dark green forests that looked as if they were burning as the torchlight reflected off of them. "You should have left it to die, a bird that cannot fly is nothing more than a dead one. You can't make the thing find courage, if something lives with fear it will never be able to shed it. There are always bigger predators out there stalking us from the shadows. The ones that are most dangerous, as your hawk learned, are the ones of our own kind."

Dick was not sure he fully understood what Lord Tywin meant, but he guessed, "Is that why you are hunting Batman my lord? Because you think he may be one of these predators from the shadows?"

Lord Tywin's lips changed from a frown to a thin line, as near to a smile as the Lion Lord could manage most likely. "You are a smart lad aren't you? Can you read boy?"

Dick looked down to the stones beneath his feet as they approached the staircase leading down to the two floors below. "I can read some m'lord but not very well. A few of the jugglers from the circus taught me, and now Alfred teaches me." Dick remembered the long nights where the two or three jugglers huddled around Dick as he tried reading simple messages and passages by candlelight. Sometimes he did miss the circus more than he would like to admit to himself.

"Hm, well what are you good at boy?"

Dick thought for a moment. "I can climb m'lord, like a squirrel my father told me, I'm fast too. I was told in the circus that I learn quickly, whether it was rope-dancing or fire-breathing or elephant riding. I even taught myself how to juggle m'lord. I started out with wooden pins but by the end I was using daggers."

Lord Tywin brushed his hand down Nightwing's head and back. "A smart boy of many talents with a quick eye for learning…that is a useful lad indeed. I'll tell you this boy, if you ever grow tired of living under Lord Wayne's desolate roof, you are welcome to join me when I return to Casterly Rock. I could have great use of a boy as quick in mind and body as you say yourself to be. The lions have sat on that rock for centuries, and will continue to do so long after the last bat loses its wings in this miserable city. Good evening boy."

Lord Tywin took a swift right once they reached the bottom of the staircase and headed off towards his guest chambers. Dick returned to his room, and let Nightwing jump to the roof of his metal wired cage. Dick stripped of his garb and changed into his silk bed clothes and sprawled himself out over his bed. He laid there for quite a while thinking over Lord Tywin's offer, wondering what he should do, if Bruce would miss him, and what dark secret they were hiding from him. Dick's eyes closed, heavy as iron, and he slipped into an undisturbed sleep.


	25. Alfred 11: Selina 12: Bruce 14

_Alfred_: Chapter 11 

"Master Bruce…Lady Kyle has been arrested." It killed Alfred to give Bruce this news, but he had to tell him. He knew Bruce had a certain fondness for Selina Kyle, although he did not know how much farther than that it truly went. Bruce's eyebrows rose, a quick flash of fear spread across his face. It reminded Alfred of that same fearful face he had last seen when Bruce was a boy, that night in the alley beside his parents' bodies. It felt like a lifetime ago to Alfred.

Bruce rose from his chair in Thomas Wayne's study, and walked to the window to gaze out as the sun turned the sky pink and orange before dipping behind the horizon. "On what charges?"

Alfred paused before replying, Bruce would really not like this part. "She killed three men. Smugglers that were in Gotham for a week or two. They killed one of her girls, the littlest one, Holly I believe her name was."

Bruce remained where he was, his face and eyes frozen where they were looking out the window. "What is to become of her?"

Alfred's heart almost fell to his stomach as his words slowly formed the words, "She is to hang, tomorrow evening at sundown. Lord Tywin has seen it fit to begin rounding up any girls found whoring and send them to the stocks. Some are fortunate enough to have guards protecting them, others…are left defenseless. It appears Lord Tywin has a certain disdain for whores that has been kept in check, until now that is…Ser Gordon has been trying to argue these harsh restrictions, but with Lord Tywin having more gold and men to work with it is proving difficult. Lord Martell continues to do nothing from his throne of flowers atop Highgarden. It seems the rest of the Reach will not heed our cries for help. They need _you_, ser."

Bruce turned to Alfred. "They _need_ me? What? So I can throw more gold at them and hope it works? _Tywin is a monster that has come to our own doorstep!_ Gold will not help them, nor will more men. If Gordon tried to fight it now, Tywin would simply send for more troops to see that his side won out. I cannot go out at night as Batman for very long or very often for risk of being caught. I just feel so…helpless. I don't know how to help my city or my people Alfred. No, there is nothing Bruce Wayne can do to help these people."

Alfred cleared his throat, wondering if he would come to regret what he was about to say, "I know, ser. I did not mean they had need of Bruce Wayne. I meant the city needs _Batman_."

Bruce's face lost its apathetic mask, his brow creased in confusion as he looked into his loyal servant's eyes. "But you've always…fought me being Batman. You wanted me to move on with my life, let this go, try to find happiness. I'm sure you wanted me to find a lady wife too, have children of my own. Why now?"

Alfred hated to admit it, but Bruce was right. "I know I have, and I still do. I never wanted you to come back to Gotham, I knew you would not find happiness here. All that waited for you here was a cold, lonely life with you living in this dusty castle. This place that will remind you of your parents' shadows day and night. Most days when you were away, I wish you wouldn't come back. That you had gotten married, had children, found happiness as far away from this place as possible. But now that you're here, and I've seen what kind of man you are, I know that is not possible.

You haven't moved on because you couldn't. The hurt boy that left this city is still trapped inside you, and Batman is his way out. You want to save your city, and this Batman persona is the only way you know how to do it. It is not the life I wanted for you, nor the one your parents wished you'd have either, but it is the life you have chosen. So I stand by you Master Bruce as I always will, and that includes at the Batman's side as well. The people need their hero, ser. Lord Tywin is going to gut this city from the inside out as if it were nothing but a deer. He does not care for this city or its people, he has shown that now. You don't save a city by killing its killers, that may be the way the rest of the bloody world handles themselves, but it is not the way your father did. They need Batman ser, and they need him now more than ever."

Bruce remained silent for a long time after that. It felt like an eternity to Alfred. Sweat started dotting his forehead as he waited anxiously for his master's response. Bruce was strong, and durable, but Alfred did not know if he had overstepped his bounds and angered him. Bruce stared at the floor, his eyes darting around the carpet. Without warning or word he walked over to Alfred, and before the Dornishman could protest Bruce wrapped his arms around him. Alfred moved his arms up over his master's shoulders, hugging him close.

"Thank you old friend, now I know what I must do," Bruce said quietly, almost at a whisper. He pulled back and looked into Alfred's eyes. "Selina may be a killer, but she still does not deserve to die. None of them that have died at Tywin's noose did. My city is in chaos, and Batman will rise to stop it."

Alfred decided to take advantage of the moment, "You know Master Bruce, you could invite Selina back to the castle after for supper."

Bruce smirked. "You would go so far as to try and match me with a whore, thief, and now convicted killer?"

Alfred returned the smirk, "Ser, if we are to speak plain. At this point I would match you with a goat if it would get you back in the world."

Bruce laughed sincerely for the first time in a long while, "I _have_ seen the world Alfred, it was not overly compelling. Nor were the many goats that I saw in my travels."

_Selina_: Chapter 12

She had been in here for five days, at least Selina thought that was the count. She was chained to the wall by a rather short, linked chain forged from iron. She could sit more comfortably than other prisoners she had seen, but the chain still made trying to sleep awkward as her arms would always have to be up at an angle to accommodate her bindings. She had a pair of iron shackles around her ankles too. The guards clearly were not taking their chances with her. Most days she would do nothing but sit there and stare into the stone wall across from her. She would look at every detail of every stone, and could sketch the wall by memory at this point. The stones were crudely formed, some even had sharp edges at some corners. Luckily no sharp edges laid at her back or that would make sitting even more uncomfortable.

A tin pot sat a few feet from her for when she had need of it, it smelled horribly at this point. Selina would rather they just take her to her noose now just so she could get away from the foul odor. That was one reason she wanted her death to come sooner rather than later, the other was Holly.

Everyday her mind would think of Holly, remembering when she first found the dirty, blonde haired girl on the street trying to pickpocket a passing merchant. "No sweets, if you want to do it right, you wait until their right on top of you and not a moment sooner. If you follow them you give yourself away, if you wait and stare as they come they'll get flighty. You wait until right as they pass and-" Selina stopped her lesson to lift a small sack of coins from an unsuspecting guardsman that passed by. She tossed the bag to Holly, and the young girl looked up at her like a kitten that had just been fed.

They had been like sisters ever since, Selina couldn't teach her how to read, write, or any useful trade. She could only teach the young girl how to survive. _And what a failure am I…_

Selina could not think of Holly for more than a minute without remembering holding the girl's fleetingly warm body in her arms. Blood had dried in the frayed ends of Holly's curly blond hair. Her chest and blouse were bathed in blood. It was bright yellow, with white flowers sewn into it, Selina had just bought it for Holly the week before because it went with her hair so well.

She heard footsteps echoing down the hall, the sound of Lannister boots made a particularly striking sound compared to those of the city guard. There were two of them, one had much heavier footsteps than the other. She heard the sound of metal scraping against metal as the key was jammed into the lock to her cell door. The door opened, and two men wearing the crimson and gold trimmed armor of Lannister came in to unlock her from her shackles. If it were four days ago, Selina would have had the strength and will to fight them tooth and nail to escape, but now she let them each grab an arm and drag her down the hall while her feet dragged against the stone floor. She knew the stone was cutting and scraping her skin, but she just couldn't bring herself to care.

She gazed indifferently at the cells as she passed. Some had thick wooden doors like her own did, others were merely iron bars. She could see how defeated the men in the barred cells looked, it made her wish none of the cells were barred. She saw a few men with bloodied, bandaged stumps where their hands once were. She saw a few whores she thought she recognized crying in corners of cells. The last cell held a bald, elderly man with all of the hope gone from his eyes. He seemed more eager to die than even Selina was. _I'm not eager to die, just tired of living,_ Selina corrected herself.

She was dragged down some stairs, then around a corner and out through two large metal doors. The sunlight was blinding to her, even squinting her eyes was not enough to stop the pain the light gave her. Luckily it was nearing sundown, as most of the buildings and steads around her were casting long shadows down onto the street. She was being dragged to the central city square she knew, that was where the other murderers were hung. _Ah yes, I keep forgetting I'm a killer now._

She glanced up at the guard to her left, a bright orange beard jetting out from beneath his lion-like helm. He was the fatter of the two guards, and must have been the cause of the heavier footprints she heard from her cell. He had given no name, so Selina decided to call him Sun Beard.

Selina turned to look up at the guard on her right as they passed a baker's stead, _not much longer now._ This guard was slightly shorter than Sun Beard, but was much less fat. He had broad shoulders, and a finely trimmed, black beard surrounding his mouth but not the entire jaw. Selina decided to call him Black Butcher, since all they were doing were butchering Gotham city folk under the Lion Lord's orders. _Ha, Black Butcher and Sun Beard, the last two men to touch me in this life._

They had reached the main city square, and Selina saw the rotting corpses dangling on their ropes from the crudely built wooden beam stretching across the triple wide street. There were at least a dozen bodies, all with feet dangling less than a foot from the stone street beneath them. A crow was picking at the most rotten corpse's eye, the rest seemed rather fresh.

They led Selina up to fall in line with the other corpses. Black Butcher dragged a crate over and set it down directly beneath the beam so he could tie the rope around it. As he was doing that, Sun Beard pulled Selina to her feet and wrapped a hand around her neck.

"Well ain't you a pretty lil' thing. Too bad you got to die, elsewise I'd pay some damn good coin to fuck you for a night or three _hehe_." His eyes were lustful and were stripping Selina nude despite her being covered in dirt and smelling of shit.

Black Butcher spoke up as he started tying the knot, "Oh let her alone Garrick, she's to die so no use in eyeing up a corpse."

Sun Beard snorted, "Is if it's a damn fine looking corpse."

_I'm going to be killed by the lowest of the lowest, oh Selina how future generations will sing songs of your grand life._

"Damn it all, the rope is too short," Black Butcher growled as Selina looked up to see the rope was wanting of a couple feet to reach where she would stand.

"We'll just lift her up is all," Sun Beard suggested.

"You can go right ahead, if you think she won't try clawing your eyes out in the process," Black Butcher argued.

Sun Beard cocked an eye brow as he pondered for a moment. "Alright, I don't suppose Lord Tywin will mind if we slit the throat of one stupid whore instead of tie a rope around her neck."

Sun Beard drew his sword but Black Butcher reached an arm out. "No, I'll do it."

He roughly grabbed Selina by the shoulder and forced her to her knees as he clutched her neck keeping her body upright. Selina looked around at the eyes that were now staring down on her. She had drawn quite a crowd, at least a hundred people had gathered to watch the latest trophy be placed on the mantle of corpses. No one was cheering though, all of the faces Selina gazed upon looked quite solemn. _They're as hopeless as me, Tywin didn't save the city, he just took its soul. _

Selina heard the soft _snickt_ of Black Butcher drawing his dagger from its scabbard. He grabbed Selina by the hair and pulled her head back, exposing her pale white neck. He leaned in to her ear and whispered in a familiar gravelly voice, "When I say run, _run._"

Selina's eyes flew wide open in disbelief, she tried to turn to see his face. To see if she could recognize it under the beard and helmet, but his grip on her hair was too strong. Time seemed to slow around her, as she waited for those words to come, the words that had given her hope again when she had felt lost to the darkness.

"_Run!"_ Black Butcher shouted as he let her hair go free and spun around to face Sun Beard. Selina was not sure how he dispatched the orange-bearded soldier but she did not care. She tried to find all the strength she could to run as fast as her feet would carry her, but her legs felt like water beneath her. Soon enough, the man was running next to her, ripping off his arm braces and shoulder guards. He wrapped an arm around her and turned her quickly down a corner as they saw three Lannister men round the corner in front of them. They took another turn down an even narrower alley and then out across another street.

Selina tried to turn her head to look upon him, but her head bobbed too much from exhaustion and he was moving too fast. His arm felt strong around her though, it made her feel…safe. Two Lannister men rounded the corner into the alley in front of them, so Black Butcher took a swift left down another side alley. As they heard more and more metal feet fall in behind them, Selina began to slowly lose hope. _How could he fight all of these men off? He's only one man…_

As they rounded the next corner Selina found her answer. A stallion as black as night stood tied to a post before them, a strong looking beast to be sure. When they reached it, he helped Selina up into the saddle before mounting behind her and wrapping his arms around her and grasping the reigns. With a flick of his wrists they were off down another side alley, the sound of metal boots on stone growing more distant as the sound of hoof-beats on stone grew more loud. Selina tried to find the strength to hang on, but she felt her body aching from exhaustion. They fled through street after street before finally reaching the outskirts of the city near the woods that ran in the densely hilled region of the bayside cliffs.

Selina felt a small prick to her skin, as she looked to her arm and found a small drip of blood slowly making its way down her arm. She turned to look back at him, but suddenly felt very light headed and dizzy. The last thing she remembered were the words, "I'm sorry."

When Selina awoke she was lying on an oddly comfortable straw mattress. She was wrapped in a wool blanket, but still had a painstaking headache. As she pulled the blanket from her, she noticed she had been washed and dressed in a new wool tunic and breeches. Selina looked around, and saw that she was in a small wooden room with a dim light seeping in from between the planks. The door had a small wooden counter halfway up with a small iron door above it for slipping in a plate of food to feed whoever was locked within. As Selina took a step from her bed she heard a _clank_ and felt a tug on her ankles. She looked down to see a tightly locked pair of shackles around her ankles. As she stepped onto the floor barefoot, she noticed that the floor was one solid slab of black stone, not multiple stones as most steads had. She heard the sound of running water from somewhere outside of the room, but could not target where.

She tried peering through the gaps in the wooden boards that made up the walls of her new cell, but couldn't see anything because of how tightly fittedthey were. Wherever she was, it certainly was not somewhere he wanted her to know about. _From one cell to another, and here I thought he was chivalrous. Beats dying I suppose. _Selina laid back down in her bed, and fell back into a rather peaceful and serene sleep.

_Bruce_: Chapter 14 

Bruce opened the small metal trap door and slid the plate onto the little wooden counter in Selina's wooden cell. Sometimes she would be awake, other times she would be sleeping or too tired or full of grief to leave the bed. Most times though, she would try talking to Bruce.

"Please, just tell me why I'm in here?" He heard muffled from within the wooden room. Bruce never answered, whether she shouted, cried, jested, seduced, or begged, he couldn't. He needed to know she would be safe until Tywin left, and since nowhere in the city was safe, Bruce had brought her back to the cave. He had Lucius begin working on the small wooden room shortly after Alfred had told him the news of Selina's arrest the night before she was to be hanged. He had him forge a pair of ankle cuffs for her too so she wouldn't try escaping. Bruce did not want her snooping around his cave and finding the passage up to the castle, then his secret identity would be no more. The wooden cell sat in the northern corner of the cave, so the floor would be dry and not have a few inches or feet of water. He fed her three times a day, usually grilled pork or beef with some roasted onions or mushrooms and a glass of wine.

It hurt Bruce not to tell her, but she was too clever for him to trust himself by saying anything. By now she had probably figured out she was underground, to the southwest of the city because she saw them approaching the woods. Bruce had been too worried with them escaping the city alive and free of pursuit to give her the sleep-inducing serum. As they fled through the last few streets Bruce remembered and gave her a poke with the small, serum coated pin. Sleep overtook her within a minute and she slept for the next eight or so hours before waking up in her new temporary chambers.

_Soon though, I will let you go soon_. It was the night before Lord Tywin's grand feast in celebration of his success in combating Gotham's crime. Many still loved Lord Tywin and thought of him as a true hero for the way he purged crime as if it were an infestation of rats. Others however, had slowly begun to lose faith in him as they grew more fearful of his iron-like grip over the city.

He had asked Alfred and Lucius to avoid the cave for the duration of Selina' stay, if she heard one of their voices it would not be hard to place the voice to the face when she was free. He knew Selina would feel lonely, he just hoped she would understand when he finally felt it was safe enough to let her go. She was a murderer though, someone who Bruce was supposed to bring to justice no matter who she was. He should not be giving her the special treatment he was, but he couldn't bring himself to let her be put to death. When the time came to set her free, Bruce was not sure if he should let her go, or if he would. Despite her being a criminal, he had a certain fondness for her. She wasn't a true lowborn killer, or a raper or smuggler, she only stole from nobles. Bruce knew her targets well, the Drakes, Hadys, Elliots, Cobblepots, all wealthy and surely would not miss what was stolen. _No, if I start rationalizing criminals' innocence now I'll never stop. She is a criminal, when Tywin's well and gone I'll turn her over to Gordon._

Bruce shook his head in frustration; he would settle this matter later, now it was time to go to work. He walked over to the large, oak wardrobe in the center of the cave. It had been his father's when he was alive, and had sat across from his parents' bed for as long as Bruce could remember. It was a dark brown wood, even for oak's standards, and was nearly as long as Bruce was tall. It had a portrait of a nighttime countryside carved into each door. There was a moon in each outer corner surrounded by stars, rolling hills, trees and fields of crops blowing in the wind, and bats flying across the sky. The door handles were made of bronze and formed a bat with outstretched wings that was split down the middle. Bruce put a hand on each wing, and pulled the bat apart as the doors opened. Within was his armor; the helm sitting upon a faceless mannequin head, the greaves and chest in the center, his bracer styled gauntlets attached to each side wall, the cape hanging in the back-right corner, the belt hanging at its opposite. He donned them all, mounted his black stallion, and rode off through the mist beneath the waterfall.

The night was cool, and especially dark from the clouded skies above._ Good._ He rode to the edge of the forest near the Lannister camp, tied his horse within the cover of the brush, and slowly crept to where the tents lay. It was late into the night, an hour or two after midnight. Most of the Lannister men were out patrolling the city as they commonly did at night, leaving maybe sixty or so left to sleep, drink, and eat. Lord Tywin had been sleeping in his lord's tent for the past few nights, making him an easy target. He kept himself hidden away within the tall crimson and gold tent towering up from the middle of the sea of brown or pale red soldiers' tents.

Many of the fires had died down to smoldering ashes. A few men still made rounds, but most were asleep leaving the camp seemingly dead. Bruce crept from tent to tent unseen until he arrived at the lavishly sewn tent of the Lion Lord. He heard voices from within, and stalked up to the faded red tent nearest the entrance to Lord Tywin's tent. He watched Ser Borsan and two other guards depart from the tent's folded back, golden entrance. One guard remained to guard over the only way in to Lord Tywin.

Bruce snuck up from the side and clamped a hand over the unfortunate guard's mouth until he ran out of air and slipped into unconsciousness. Bruce silently laid the body down against the tent propped up as if he were merely sleeping. Then he slipped into the entrance to find the Lion Lord sitting at his war table facing the other way. Bruce stood, and drew two throwing knives from his belt.

"If you're going to try and kill a man you should at least have the decency to face him," Lord Tywin calmly said without turning to face the intruder. Bruce lowered his arm from its tensed position and put the bat-shaped knives back into his belt. He walked around the table to face Lord Tywin directly.

Tywin gazed up at Bruce without moving his head, glaring at the oddly dressed man before him. "I'm not here to kill you," Bruce growled in the rasping but well-practiced voice he used as Batman.

Tywin sat back in his chair. "No, of course not. You don't kill, because you are a coward and are not prepared to do what is necessary in a world like this."

Bruce remembered the last time he had heard that when he killed Rha's Al Ghul. _These men are so quick to say what is necessary, but not what is important._ "Killing is necessary?" Bruce asked the old lord.

"Yes, think of what would happen if the Mad King had not been killed. How many people would have died under his reign? War is fighting and fighting is killing. That is the way it has been since the First Men landed and began killing the Children of the Forest to make way for what we have now. And we will continue to kill so our children's children will have even more. It is how the world turns, and only those too craven to take another's life sit and preach of how the world could be different. They don't know what it feels like, watching another man's life drain from his eyes, hearing his last breaths, feeling his life leave him right before your eyes. Killing is not used to be well loved, but it is to be used to keep order and keep these sheep in line.

Men that rise up trying to change the world are more dangerous than even the worst of killers, for their heads are full of follies and hopes. Men need to stop thinking what could be and see what _is_. This is the way the world works, and this is the way the world will end. You cannot change the nature of man by dressing yourself in a pointed helm and running about at night like a shadow. You are a danger to this world and its natural order. You try to spit in the face of how Westoros lives and will continue to do so. And I am the sword that always comes down on the head of such up-starters to teach them the reality of the matter," Tywin said as he stood to pour himself a glass of wine.

"If I am not mistaken my lord, I believe our current king bears the title _The Usurper,_ does he not?" Bruce replied. Robert Baratheon had risen up against the Mad King, and won himself a throne for his troubles. He started a rebellion, a rebellion that Tywin Lannister had supported in the end, but now he was trying to label Bruce an outcast for going against the natural order of the world. _How men sitting on thrones twist and turn their actions to make their meanings seem more noble._

Tywin turned with his nostrils flaring briefly. "Now you would disrespect our king? That is a crime worthy of death _Batman._ Perhaps you are no better than those you hunt."

Bruce stood with his eyes locked on the old lord's face as he returned to his seat. "I fought a hunter recently, a trained dog that was sent to kill me. He informed me you knew him, before he went missing."

Tywin Lannister's nostrils flared even wider as his upper face contorted in seething anger. "_You do not know the matters in which you are interfering you aberration,_" he seethed at Bruce with an unforeseen level of uncontrolled wrath.

Bruce pursued the matter, "So it _was_ Deathstroke that you came to Gotham for. You wanted to find out what became of your little pet."

Tywin stood up swiftly, both hands clamped on the arms of his chair. "_May the Others take you. _You know not of the hell I could bring down upon this city. That man has proven more useful to me than even Gregor Clegane. He has killed dozens of men for me and possibly a thousand more for practice. He is not a tool I will not let go missing until I find him, or his bloodied corpse and know he's of no more use. And if that is the case, then your city will be reduced to ash. You and that damned Carmine Falcone will burn in the eyes of the Stranger for eternity if the Seven are just. He has always tried to eat the scraps from my table and now he's gone and taken one of my best assets from me only for the likes of you."

Bruce had him. "So you _are _only here to find your blade in the shadows. The man who can do your dirty deeds for you while you remain safe behind your walls feasting and drinking to your heart's content. You sit from atop your damned rock and judge me as worthless and without just cause. While you and your lords sit on your thrones and throw more swords than gold at your people rather than actually _doing_ something to try and help. You are not men of action, you are men of words, and pointless, hollow words at that. You will leave this city tomorrow, or you will regret your foolishness and arrogance for staying."

Lord Tywin sat back in his seat, and took another sip of wine. "You know, when I first came here, I thought you truly were Bruce Wayne. The cane threw me at first, but I thought I could understand how a man would become so enamored by grief that he would dress so foolishly and frolic around playing knight. But Wayne is nothing but an arrogant boy with hordes of gold, while you are merely a delusional, albeit determined, fool that is destined to fail."

Bruce stepped to the entrance of the tent, the old lion did not turn to see him out. Lord Tywin spoke up once more, "It was you that saved that whore a few days ago wasn't it?"

Bruce turned to face the back of his chair, not responding. The Lion Lord grunted, "Heh, it seems your so called honor-bound morals are beginning to crack, _ser. _I do hope the whore is worth the price in bed for corrupting what you stand for. What measures can you take to ensure that I leave? Highgarden has sent your city no help, abandoning it as if it were not a part of the Reach at all. Your City Watch finds my assistance beneficial. The majority of your people still find me a hero. What can you possibly do to make me leave you fool? Take on all six centuries of men yourself? Only a fool would think he could fight such a war on his own._"_

Bruce stared at the balding back of Lord Tywin's head before replying, "Either man will bring about the end of war, or war will bring about the end of man. At least I do more than sit my lord. The lords of Highgarden, Ashford, Goldengrove, any of them, the City Watch, the smallfolk, they can all stand by and do nothing. I've laid in wait for long enough. If it comes to taking on your six hundred men myself, I will do it. You may jest and find that a humorous folly, but I've taken on such a feat before and come out the victor. Careful Lord Tywin, you have won wars against men before, but you have never fought the likes of me." With that he left Tywin to his wine, and ducked out into the darkness of the night.

_So the Batman has finally confronted Lord Tywin! Next week's update brings the Lord Tywin's honored feast! As always, any reviews are welcome and appreciated and I will reply as soon as I can_


	26. James 11: Joker 3: Bruce 15

_**James**_: Chapter 11 

James hated feasts and festivals. There was a lot of people drinking and pushing into each-other, a lot of noise, and most of the time he was stuck guarding everyone. Lord Tywin had asked, but more or less _ordered_, all of the city guard to remain in the city save for a couple dozen while his own men saw to the protection for the feast. James chose fifty of his best men to guard the entrance to the wide green field where the feasting tables and spreads of food had been set up. There were eight columns of tables stretching on for at least a hundred feet each, with a row of large oak tables placed at the far end for the nobles and lords.

Bruce Wayne sat at the center, with his adoptive ward at his left, and Lord Tywin to his right. To Lord Tywin's right sat his lieutenant Ser Borsan, a man who James had come to over the past weeks when he had need of something from Lord Tywin. Lately Ser Borsan had been more dispersed in his appearances at the City Watch's main keep, it made James' stomach feel uneasy. Whatever he and Tywin were planning, James knew it would not be any better for the city than what they had already been doing.

James still did not dispute Lord Tywin's measures to hang the killers, geld the rapers, and so on. Crime had dropped more considerably in the past month or so than in the past three years combined, so James was grateful for that. But he still did not think such brutal tactics were absolutely necessary.

"The world is made up of men that do more than what's necessary to see their goals finished, and those who are wanting of the will to do so. Choose Ser Gordon, which side do you wish to be on," Lord Tywin had told him when James had tried asking if they could lighten the punishments to some degree. James had to thank the lord for giving him time to see his daughter again, but he was not particularly grateful for what the Lion Lord had done to his city.

Some nights James laid awake, with young Barbara curled up beside him, wondering if he should have chosen to help Batman over Lord Tywin. Some of those nights he would look down at his daughter asleep beside him and know he made the right choice. Other nights, he would look out the window to the moon shining down on his face, knowing he had hammered the final nail in his city's coffin.

His daughter remained home tonight, James didn't want her getting lost amongst the hordes of drunk city folk cheering and singing and shoving. The feast had started in the late afternoon, but the sun had set a few hours ago and still the crowd buzzed with cheering and music. Servants darted in and out of the columns of people trying to bring the freshly grilled pig or more mead to the tables. The Lannister soldiers were spotted amongst the crowd as well. Nearly all of Tywin Lannister's men were here to guard the people, but shortly after the feast began and no threats presented themselves, the men started to drink. They drank ale brewed especially for them by the alehouses of Gotham and one that the city folk were not allowed to drink from. Most of them were well beyond drunk by now.

James edged his way through the mass of commoners until he arrived at the center of the lords' table. Tywin Lannister was sipping from a glass filled with a rare Arbor wine that he had saved for the occasion specifically. He was wearing his best crimson doublet inlaid with cloth-of-gold. He still had his sword and scabbard on his belt but did not wear any of his customary armor.

Lord Wayne was dressed in a silk doublet that was as black as his hair with golden buttons running up its front. He looked quite drunk as he whispered something in a passing girl's ear and delivered a hit to her rear with the palm of his hand, both of which made her giggle. His wine was spilling out of his glass as he twirled it around carelessly. His ward Richard Grayson was sitting beside him looking as bored as if he were being forced to watch the grass of this field grow. Ser Borsan was sitting dutifully and upright to Lord Tywin's side, looking out at the people. James was rather surprised, Borsan seemed rather sociable and humorous amongst his men. It was most likely due to his close proximity to his lord. _The nobles always ruin the fun of those they rule over._ He was close enough to hear them speaking though.

"Oh Borsan take your helmet off, this is a feast. You and your men have done an admirable job. So come, drink, celebrate," Tywin half asked, half ordered his man.

James thought Borsan smirked but couldn't tell from beneath the man's helm, "Well my lord, I would like to be able to remember this night, if it please you."

Lord Tywin grunted in agreement and stood from his chair. Within a few minutes the entire drunken crowd had grown nearly silent. He raised his glass and bellowed out, "People of Gotham! Tonight, we show what strength and will are capable of! Your city is safer than it has been in a decade! Criminals run scared from the eyes of the law! And you can all sleep more soundly as I promised! And what has the Batman given you? I have not seen him since I've arrived. Maybe he's as _craven_ as the rest of the scum of your city! Maybe he's no better than them. So I propose a toast, to Gotham and those that would truly stand to defend it while others would run and hide!"

The entirety of the crowd, thousands of smallfolk, raised their glasses together. The Lannister soldiers drunkenly raised theirs soon after. Every glass filled with a freshly cold brew that the servants had passed around the tables in mass. Lord Tywin lifted his glass to his lips and drank, while the crowd beneath him roared and all drank to cheers of "Lannister! Lannister!"

Then James heard a scream from his right, followed by a few more from his left. As James looked out upon the crowd from the lords' table's front, Lannister soldiers were collapsing to the ground. James looked back to Lord Tywin quickly, whose mouth was hanging ever so open to show his shock. When James turned back to the crowd, all of the crimson armored soldiers he could see were now on the ground.

He ran to the nearest one as the crowd hushed in silence. He pulled off the man's helm and nearly vomited at the sight he was greeted with. The soldier's face was twisted, his mouth stretched inhumanly. His lips were thin, his pink gums were turned light green and completely visible. The corners of his lips were pulled back halfway to his ear in a…_smile_.

Then James heard it, a sound that had haunted his nightmares for the past month. It echoed over the silent crowd, and made James' spine shudder as if it were ice, just like it had the first time he heard the dreadful sound. That demonic, inhuman _laughing._ James turned to face the source of the hideous noise from behind him at the lords' table. He looked down the row, from the Andrews, to the Drakes, to the Grayson boy, to Bruce Wayne who had suddenly sobered, to Lord Tywin, and finally to Ser Borsan. The man was standing up laughing maniacally from beneath his golden, lion crested helm. _No, not him._

Borsan slowly raised his hands up, and lifted the helmet from his head. The green hair bobbed slightly after being relieved of the weight of the helm. The green eyes darted around the crowd, soaking in all of the terror on the commoners' faces. And the blood red lips, they were turned up into a wicked grin, as the man continued laughing.

The Joker stood before his crowd, cupped a hand to the side of his mouth, and began shouting, "Good evening sers and ladies! I am tonight's entertainment! I do hope you've enjoyed yourselves thoroughly. No, _truuuuuly_, you all deserve it! I mean, I would be ecstatic too if I had some lord who shits gold come to my home and just sweep all of my little darn troubles away! But eat your fill and drink your mead my good people! Because after tonight…Gotham. Is. _MINE! HAHAHAHAHAAA!_"

_**Joker**_: Chapter 3

He was simply a performer on a stage before thousands. Hundreds lay dead, hundreds wept, and every last person cowering before him was filled with _fear_. It was like an elixir to his blood, spurning it on and making him feel more alive than he ever did in any other moment in his life. He could see the daring few on the edges of the crowd begin to run. "_Boys!_"

At once, dozens of the henchmen he had collected over the past month drew their swords from beneath their cloaks. They were amongst the crowd, posing as commoners simply there to drink and feast like the rest. As soon as the crowd's people saw the bladed steel they cowered back into their pathetic herd. _Ah I do love when the flock follows their shepherd. _

All of the Lannister soldiers lay dead on the ground, smiles upon their usually grim faces. There were a few city guards at the entrance to the feasting grounds, but they shouldn't pose a problem for the hundred or two thugs that were to be marching up the main road by now. The rest of the City Watch would not get word of the uprising for at least half an hour. _Plenty of time…_

Joker looked out upon his audience with a grand smile. "People of Gotham! Behold your new lord! The clown prince of crime! _Hahaha_! Oh right, where are my manners. I have yet to address our gracious hosts!"

Joker turned to face the lords sitting to his left. Lord Tywin's face was completely aghast in shock as he looked up at the white faced man wearing the crimson armor of his underlings. Bruce Wayne sat next to him, his eyes open with terror before slowly narrowing to a glare. The young circus boy sat to his left, looking so juicily terrified it made Joker giddy with joy.

"My dear lords, I do humbly beg your forgiveness for forgetting to introduce myself before addressing these commoners. They _are _beneath us are they not? I know Lord Tywin shares my idea don't you ya old gray-maned lion? _Brucey _how ya been? How're the parents doi…oops. _Heehee_ oh I do forget such important things these days, pray forgive me my insanity. Young Grayson, same question. _Hahahahaaha!"_

Lord Tywin rose from his chair, his hand on the hilt of his blade as he growled, "_I care not for who you are fool, but if you da-_"

Joker cut him off, "Tsk Tsk Tywin where is your sense of humor? Is it because you believed me to be Ser Borsan? Oh my sweet fool, Borsan's been dead for nearly a month! _Ahahaha_! I killed him practically as soon as he got here. You never kept a close enough eye or knew your men intimately enough to know all of those little ticks and goodies that only they did. If you were that smart you would have seen this coming leagues away! _HAHA_! And as to who I am, you will care of that soon enough. For I am here to change this entire _world!_ Men have called me a fool, women have called me a nightmare, children stay awake at night crying that the white-faced demon clown does not come to them in the night. I am _Joker!_ And I'm here to burn this world to the ground! Oh Tywin, I have a _great_ jape that I feel you can appreciate. I saw a man pickpocketing from a dwarf the other day, and as I watched I couldn't help but think, how could anyone stoop so _low!_ _Hahaha_!"

Joker doubled over laughing as Tywin angrily drew his sword and took a step towards the murderous clown. Joker took notice immediately and raised a finger. "No, no Lord Tywin, one should not be so quick to anger. It could get a man _killed._"

He drew a knife from his pocket and began tossing it back and forth between his hands. Tywin mouth grew tighter, with one end curving up into the ever slightest smirk. "You plan to take me on with a mere dagger? You truly do have a death wish."

"Oh no, I have no wish to die. I _love_ killing too much to die. Without me, this world would be such a dark, lonely place. It's so sad to think about, it almost makes me cryyy. Now Lord Tywin, you have been holding a secret back from our lovely onlookers! Go on! Tell them why you truly came to Gotham!"

Lord Tywin glared at the Joker with a look that would burn his soul if it could. "I know not of what you speak of clown."

Joker looked out to the crowd of terrified city folk. "People! My people! This man is a liar, tyrant, murderer, and above all, he's a _Lannister!_ But do not fret! For I have found a way to even the playing field. As we speak, my men are raiding the Lannister camp! Taking any gold they can find, which if rumors be true will be found mostly in Lord Tywin's chamber pot! Anyone that wishes to receive from the gift of Lord _Golden Shit's _generosity need only come to the main city square in one hour! Unless, Lord Tywin gives himself in, and comes with me, then I will allow him to keep his gold!"

Joker turned back to Tywin, to see if defeat was in his eyes. Joker was disappointed as he was met with that same defiant glare. _Hmm maybe the old fool isn't going to give in after all._

_NO! He will, just wait and see. He cares too much for his pride to let you get away with his gold in tow,_ his second inner voice spoke up.

_Ooh hoo! I do hope we are right! Otherwise…HE will never come…_

Joker briefly felt like frowning at that thought, but had his faith restored when Lord Tywin let out a deep sigh and looked down to the ground.

_HA! He's MINE! Now it's time to start preparing the true celebration…_

"Oh good show Lord Tywin! Everyone I think this noble man deserves a round of applause!"

The crowd did nothing as they continued cowering and looking on with faces wrought with terror. Joker frowned, and looked to the closest of his men. "Ipsen, please do give the people some, _incentive_," Joker said plainly and without any enjoyment in his voice.

The thug nodded in agreement and drove his sword into the chest of the nearest man he could find. As the man collapsed into a pool of his own blood, the surrounding city folk let out a sorrowful wail and the crowd grew even thicker with fear.

"Now…let us try that again shall we? I _said_, give this man a round of applause!"

The crowd slowly began clapping sparsely until all Joker could hear was the lovely waves of hands slapping together filling his ears. _Ahhh now that is a beautiful song to be heard._

"Pilo! Do make sure our guest of honor does not harm himself before the big celebration!"

Pilo emerged from the crowd with a length of iron chain, and jumped up onto the upraised platform on which the lords' table sat. He pushed the table aside and pushed Tywin back into his chair as he proceeded to bind him to it.

"Ahh there we go, wouldn't want you slipping on a banana peel and breaking your neck now would we? Mol, Kol! Make sure that he returns with us safely."

Two massive brutes emerged from the crowd, arms as round as two of Joker's waists. _Strong, but fools, just how I like my henchmen._ Each grabbed a side of Lord Tywin's chair and raised him up into the air. Lord Tywin looked out upon the terror-struck crowd and Joker could have sworn for a brief moment the Lion Lord's face actually glimpsed a look of fear. _Peeeeerfectt Heeheehee._

"Well my people! Your lord must leave you now! The funny white-faced one, not the cripple, _Hehe_! I will see you again in an hour however, where we make you all rich as a lion!"

Tywin erupted in anger, "_You deranged fool! You said if I gave myself in you would-"_

Joker cut him off by jabbing his knife into Tywin's thigh and twisted it violently. The old man cried out from the unexpected, intense feeling of pain, returning a big smile to Joker's face. He put a hand on Mol's shoulder and jumped up to sit upon Lord Tywin's lap in the upraised chair.

"_I bid you farewell my people! Remember, the best way to make it through your dull, meaningless days is with a smile! Hahahah!"_ The two colossal thugs turned and stepped down from the upraised platform and walked towards the back of the field. A horse drawn wagon pulled up and Mol and Kol unloaded their cargo in the covered, leather seated cabin and sat down on the flat bed behind it.

The carriage took off and passed by the crowd of horrified city-folk and continued on down the hill. Joker watched the outline of the city expand before him, the way the moonlight reflected off the roofs and towers jutting out from the cityscape. _It will look so lovely when it all burns._

Joker broke the silence, "Do you want to know what happened to your little orange and black dog, Tywin? Do you see this?" He withdrew a dagger from inside his jacket, with a thin blade and dark elm hilt. "I took this blade, and drew it right across your little Deathstroke's neck, _Hehehe_. Ohh the look on his pathetic old face as he gasped those precious last breaths, knowing that they would be his last…_Mmmmm_ it's enough to keep me going onwards to be sure."

Lord Tywin growled, "_You _killed Slade? Why?"

Joker's lips formed an evil smile as he said in an angry tone without humor. "Because he was not _worthy_ to kill Batman. Batman is _mine_ and mine alone to kill."

Lord Tywin leaned back in his chair, in fear, "Who _are _you…? What is your name, what house do you belong to?"

Joker laughed hysterically at that, "_Hahahahaa!_ Does it matter? You see Lord Tywin, the only thing that separates you from me is one. _Bad_. Day. Just one rotten day to transform a man, to a monster._ Hehehe,_ but you know all about that don't you ya old bastard. Life brings thousands, tens of thousands of little torments in all shapes, sizes, and flavors_._ Does it matter what my name was before? Does it matter what house I belong to? I could be of house Joker! With one of those laughing Hyenas from across the narrow as my sigil. My words will be. _The last man to laugh, is the last man to stand! HAHAHA!"_

Then Joker cut his laughing off mid outburst and grew more solemn. "I was the bastard of some lord… He stowed me away in his castle because his honor kept me there since my mother had passed, but he _despised _me. Everyday my simple existence reminded him of his lack of honor, I shamed him just by living. So one night, he has his maester concoct a deadly, evil mixture. He comes into my chambers as I slept, and poured every last drop of it on my face! Hoping to destroy that face that looked like a spitting image of his own! _But,_ it didn't work _hehehehe_…he did not kill me! He only made me look like him, if his inner monster were put on display on his face! I killed him after that. After all, what doesn't kill you simply makes you…_stranger._"

Lord Tywin looked at his captor with uncertainty, "Is that the truth of it…what _are_ you…?"

Joker looked up at the man, his lips slowly turning from a deep frown, to a grand smile that reached from cheek to cheek. "No of course that isn't the truth, or perhaps it is. It does become so hard to remember. And what else would I be you bloody fool? You commit a lifetime of sins and injustices, I am merely the reaper come for your head. My cloak is my white face and my scythe is my smile! _HahehahahaHahAHAHA!_" Joker struck his head out of the carriage window and let his menacing laugh echo down through the city, bouncing off the stone walls and streets. The city was so close to being _his._

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 15 

He rode faster than he ever had before. Bruce did not know what this mad man had planned for Gotham, but may the Seven damn him for eternity if he would let this white-faced murderer succeed. Bruce still was not sure of Joker's plan, but he knew that whatever it was, it spelled only ruin for Gotham. He remembered the look on the mad man's face as he watched the hundreds of Lannister soldiers' bodies grow cold on the ground.

_How did he do it…the soldiers drank what the rest of the crowd did for the toast. They did drink a special wine…but they only died after drinking for the toast._ It was one of the many problems that plagued Bruce about this new, oddly colored assailant. _First Deathstroke, then Tywin, now Joker, _Bruce feared for the next vividly colored figure he would see on the horizon heading towards Gotham.

He rounded a street corner and sped on towards the eastern regions of Gotham, where Joker lay in wait at the city's center. Gordon would be making sure the City Watch would be there in full force, but if Joker had a way to kill six centuries of Lannister soldiers he could easily kill the five hundred city guardsmen. Gordon must have been as shocked as Lord Tywin when Joker removed his lion helmet. Ser Borsan had spent a great deal of time in the City Watch's main keep, his chambers directly beside Gordon's.

After Joker had fled the feast in his carriage, Gordon immediately ran back to the city to gather his men. The crowds fled in an aggressively turbulent flood of frightened bodies as they returned to their homes. Bruce ordered Alfred to take Dick home, and to order the wall guards to not allow anyone past the castle's main walls. Dick looked scared, but after seeing his parents die before his eyes, six hundred helmeted strangers must have been leagues easier.

Alfred followed orders without question, and Bruce limped to the woods beyond the field. Once hitting the tree line, he lifted his cane and sprinted. Approximately two hundred paces in he found a wooden carriage lying in wait in a grassy clearing. Lucius sat in the driver's seat reading a small book when he looked up and noticed Bruce running towards him. He stepped down to the ground and moved to the door of the carriage.

"Now I'm not gambling man, but I wager Lord Tywin's party had a few hitches from the sounds of it," Lucius said with a grin as he opened the door for Bruce.

"Joker appeared, killed most of Tywin's men in a matter of moments," Bruce replied as he began shedding his formal wear.

Lucius' brow raised in surprise. "Well good thing we brought you your true party suit."

Bruce ducked inside and pulled the latch under the seat opposite him. It unlocked, and he pulled the leather bench up. Bruce's eyes were met with his armor, waiting for him in the hidden booth. Bruce fastened his armor on as quickly as he could. Lucius helped him tighten his chest armor and greaves while Bruce donned his helmet and buckled his belt around his waist. He took his horse from beside the carriage and rode off.

That was nearly twenty minutes ago, and now Bruce was only five streets down from his destination. As he got closer he could see a mass of people blocking off the streets. _Damn, they actually came_. Bruce knew Joker's offer was not a bluff, but he also knew that a man who kills six hundred people for pure enjoyment would assuredly not hold to his word. Bruce knew where Joker would be waiting. A man that enjoys watching people suffer as if it were a play would surely want the best possible seat. And no seat had a better view of the square than the City Watch's keep standing in the center of the city, beside the main square. The turret overlooking the square was easily defendable and happened to be the tallest point for four hundred feet in any direction.

Bruce steered his mount into a side alley and tied it down to go the rest of the way on foot. He took the one-handed crossbow from the horses saddle pack and shot it up to the top of the nearest roof. The bolt-head caught, and Bruce began his climb up the metal rope. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop as he saw the three towers of the Watch's central keep rising up above the line of shingled and plates roofs.

Bruce knew if Joker killed Tywin, the armies of Casterly Rock would surely march on Gotham and reduce the city to smoldering ashes in the name of vengeance. Bruce could not, _would _not let that happen. Letting Joker kill Tywin would ruin any chances Bruce had of saving Gotham. He shot his grappling shot again, this time it connected on the top of the turret at the back of the guard's keep. He scaled the wall, and heaved himself up over the ledge and onto the flat landing behind it. He gazed across the gap of open air and discovered his assumption was right. There on the front-most turret sat Lord Tywin, still bound in his chair, the two large thugs that had lifted him, and Joker. He was looking out over the square to watch the townsfolk come right into the palm of his hand like mice to cheese.

_Time to test it, may whatever gods that still look over me let this work._ Bruce knelt down and pulled out the modified attachment Lucius had made for his crossbow. It was a second, smaller bow to be attached to the back of the original. When fired, a second bolt would fly behind the shooter, and a second bolt head would pierce into whatever surface it could. Both bolt heads were connected to the single, strongly wound metal rope. The rope had a length of three hundred feet Lucius had told him, and could be tethered in the middle so the rope could be shortened and made taught.

Bruce pulled the trigger, and both Valyrian steel arrow heads flew in opposing directions. The forward one punctured into the shoulder-high wall surrounding Joker's turret while the one that fired backwards pierced into the wall behind Bruce. Joker did not hear the noise it seemed as he was so engulfed in the sounds of the city folk below. Tywin was unconscious, and the two brutes were looking out to where their leader's gaze was. Bruce stood, stepped onto the wire, and began to walk across it into the open air. _The rope dancers taught me well._

When he was three quarters of the way across the gap between the two towers, Joker turned and took notice of his incoming guest. He giggled with anticipation before shouting, "Oh good you received my invitation after all! _Nice_ toy you have there!"

Bruce reached the tower and stepped off and onto the stone. Joker just stood there, smiling and staring at Bruce. _Remember, he is only a man, the same as you._ His two brutes took a step forward but Joker stretched an arm out to stop them. The hand then went up to his mouth as he stood, almost in awe it seemed, staring at Batman before him. He finally spoke after a few moments, "I am sorry, but I'm just _soooo_ happy that you actually came. I have been _waiting _so _longggg_ for this day. Having to deal with foolish lords, arrogant knights, pathetic guards. They all were just so, so…_boring._"

Joker paced over to where Lord Tywin sat and placed a hand under the man's whiskered chin and raised it so that he could gaze at the unconscious lord's face. "Weak, mindless fools that think themselves kings of this world. Ohh how mad they are, coming from me, _hehe_. They all say I'm mad, but no, I am not, not truly. For I am just ahead of the curve in this world. I see things how they truly are. They are no more kings of this land than a man could try and be king of the air, or the sea. They play this game of thrones to get richer, more renowned, more loved, or just to show the world that they are _great_. Pfft, the lot of them will all die sorrowful deaths in their beds, names lost to time. But not you, _you_ I have been waiting what seems like an eternity for."

Bruce decided not to move, Joker could kill Tywin in an instant before Bruce could so much as draw a knife from his belt. Joker seemed to have more of a reason for his actions than just shaming Lord Tywin, and Bruce wanted to know what it was. "Why me?" was all that he said.

"Every force in history had a force to oppose it! Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark had King Aerys, the First Men had the Andals, and you have _me_. You are the unstoppable force that will clash with me, the immovable object, for years to come! And they will write stories and tell the tales of how Batman and Joker clashed in epic battles across decades for the soul of Gotham! You are the good, and I am your bad. Your justice and order versus my lawlessness and chaos! You _complete_ me!"


	27. Joker 4: Bruce 16: James 12

_**Joker**_: Chapter 4 

It was magnificent, to be standing before him after so much waiting and planning._ He_ was magnificent. The way his cape blew in the wind as if darkness itself took a physical form just to cling to him. The pointed spikes of his helm, the bat across his chest, all of the little tools and toys in his belt, it was all just as Joker had been hoping for. _And his eyes,_ _oo-hoo those brooding eyes, oh yes he is absolutely perfect!_

Joker stood waiting for the infamous Batman to speak, _oh say something you damned, wonderful fool._ Batman's stone lips parted as he finally said, "You're insane."

Joker laughed at that, as he often did, "_Hahahaha_ no, I'm not. I'm, not. I'm not mad, I assure you. I simply have a great desire to _speak_ with you."

Batman stood ever stoic. "I have nothing to say to you."

He took a step closer, and Joker drew his knife and pointed it to Lord Tywin's throat. "Ah ah ah, no, no Batman that is not playing by the rules."

Batman gave a small sneer, "I only have _one _rule."

_Oh good this will be easier than I thought. _"Than that is the one rule you will have to break. If you have any hopes to beat me that is, _Hahaha_!"

"You're _done_ Joker, I'm taking you back in chains to Ser Gordon and you will spend the rest of your days in the lowest, darkest cell he can put you in."

_How dare he!_ "Why are you trying to sound like one of them!" Joker pointed out to the crowds below. "You are something _greater_! You can never be one of them, even if you'd like to. You and I, we're both superior beings, we _represent_ something. Those beasts down there? Pfft, they're but cattle. At the first sign of danger they will _eat each other!_ They are no better than wildlings, but at least those savages accept who they are. They're all only as good as the world allows them to be, but us? No we are as good as we _choose_ to be!"

Batman replied the quickest he had thus far in their conversation, "You're scum that kills for pleasure. I'm nothing like you."

_Oh how narrow of mind he is, ugh he still has so much to learn. _

Joker's second inner voice then reminded himself, _but that's why weeee are here. We will be the light that opens his eyes to the truth!_

Joker smiled in agreement with himself as he looked up at the moon. "Well it's almost time for our celebration to begin. _Ooooo_ I am just so joyous with anticipation, it's _killing me!_ _Hahaha_! Oh come now Batsy it wouldn't hurt you to laugh. May I call you Batsy? Now, you two fools leave us!" He turned to face his two brutes standing off to the side and quickly tilted his head to the wooden door on the stone floor of the turret.

The two thugs followed orders, and clumsily stepped over to the door and climbed down the ladder into the keep. Joker turned back to face Batman and smiled, "Now that we're alone, I have to tell you, I am _stranded_ on an island of competence in a sea of stupidity! Surely you can understand this more than anyone? Day _in_ and day _out_ I must deal with these bumbling fools! It's enough to drive a man mad! _Hahahahahaa!_ Oh come now Batman you could be a hair less brooding and see the lighter side of things!"

Batman took a step closer, and Joker pressed his blade closer to Tywin's neck. "If you are going to try and kill me, do it! And stop hiding behind an unconscious old man," he grunted.

Joker was taken aback, shocked even. "_Kill you?_! I don't want to _kill_ you! Oh what would I do without you? Return to a meaningless life of killing lord's underlings or stealing from nobles? No, I refuse. We will give each other _purpose_ from this moment forward, you will see."

"No, from now on your purpose is in a cell," Batman said in some gravelly voice to hide his true voice.

Joker laughed once more, "Do you really think I would let myself get caught Batman? _Hahahaha! _Oh by the Others you have much to learn. Come, look down at the square, they'll be doing it by now."

Batman cautiously walked over to the wall overlooking the square below, his eyes never leaving Joker's. He looked down upon the city square, and his eyes narrowed as he saw it.

"Right now, my men are bringing in three large chests filled with what those dumb sheep down there believe to be gold. What it is actualllly filled with would be a deadly poison that will shoot out in a green cloud of smoke and strangle every last one of them _HAHAHA!"_

Batman stayed unmoving, watching his thugs move the large chests into place at the opposite end of the square. "Do you know how I did it? How I killed all of those Lannister soldiers at the feast?"

_If he can do this, he truly is worthy. _Batman looked Joker in the eye, before calmly saying, "The wine served only to the Lannister men had the poison in it, but the poison is dormant until it reacts with something. The drink everyone had for the toast held the catalyst, but only those that drank the poison would be affected."

_He's perfect, _Joker dropped his knife to the ground, "Yes, exactly right! Ohh hoo! I knew you were the right man for the job! Now I present to you Batman a choice, you may either beat me to a bloody pulp and take me to Gordon as you said _OR_ glide down there now and save another few thousand from dying a painful and very drawn out death. Your choice Batman."

Batman took a small, one-handed crossbow from his belt and shot it down, hitting the wall directly above where the chests were being set down. A second bolt flew behind him and buried itself into the turret wall behind him. He withdrew a metal hook from his belt as well, looped it over the metal wire, and dove down off the tower. Joker watched from his high viewpoint as he glided down along the wire with his cape flying behind him black fire. _Oh he's so perfect I almost can't contain my joy for when I will tear him down._

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 16 

Bruce flew down over the crowd as he grinded along the metal line on his hook. Below he heard the crowd go from anxious chatter to shock and cries of terror. Some even shouted out in fear as Bruce's shadow fell on the ground thrice its original size. His cape flew behind him, widening in the wind and appearing almost like large wings fluttering behind him.

"_It's a direbat!"_ One frightened man shouted from below. A woman screamed, a few even wailed. City folk below him started to run in multiple directions thinking they were likely to be plucked from the ground in a giant claw. As he neared the opposite end of the square and came into sight, the cries of terror grew into a silent awe.

Then, one older man shouted, "No, it's_ Batman_!" The crowd remained quiet for a moment, before it erupted into a wave of applause as thousands of people began cheering in unison.

Bruce was thirty feet out from the wall and coming in too fast. He let go of the hook and crashed into one of Joker's thugs standing guard over the crowd. As Bruce stood up, he heard the familiar sound of heavy boots shuffling against stone. He looked around, to see he was surrounded by twenty or so armed henchmen. They wielded swords, daggers, maces, two had morning stars, one larger one wielded a great sword, and another scrawnier one held a whip with a bladed tip. The people cheered him on, just as they had when he found Deathstroke. The people's savior had returned. Whether they cheered him on for his return, or because they thought he was clearing the way for them to claim Tywin's stolen gold Bruce was not sure.

Two dagger wielding young men charged Bruce from either side. He waited until a moment before the blades were about to make contact with his neck and ducked. He grabbed both arms and pulled, making the two men collide skull against skull into each other. Now three men with swords charged, Bruce sidestepped the first one, gave the second an elbow to his nose, and then brought the other two together and delivered a swift kick to their jaws.

Bruce quickly reeled back as the bladed end of the whip came whipping at his face, and then followed up with a flurry of punches and kicks that left at least ten of the thugs lying in pain on the street. The whip came nipping at his face once more, but this time Bruce was prepared and grabbed hold of it. He gave it a quick tug, pulling its wielder off balance and a few steps closer as Bruce finished him with a knee to the groin.

The rest of them all charged him at once. Bruce threw a smoke bomb to the floor and disappeared in a cloud of gray fog. The men charged through the smoke to the other side, seemingly running through Bruce as if he were an apparition. Then a hard first came to the right-most's jaw as Bruce reappeared and took three more to the ground. The great sword swung down, but slowly and clumsily. _After fighting Deathstroke this is child's play. _

Bruce gave a rapid flurry of punches to the large man's torso and finished with a kick to the man's gut. The man flew off his feet, back into a pile of crates, and collapsed on his back. Bruce finished off the remaining thugs and finally turned to face the crowd. They lay quiet for a few moments before bursting out into cheering as they had after Batman defeated Deathstroke. Bruce looked around the crowd, and saw City Watch guards lead by Ser Gordon emerge from the masses of people. He walked up to where Bruce stood, and gave him a small nod. "I told my men to stay at the perimeter. After what happened at the feast…I didn't know what Joker planned to do."

Bruce looked at this battle-hardened man from years of fighting and never backing down and asked, "What would happen if Joker killed them?"

Gordon gave a small smile. "I had a feeling in my gut that he wouldn't. Because I knew, somehow, you would come. The Lannister men died yes, but when _Gotham_ is under siege, I knew I could count on you to protect its people, and you did."

"The chests are filled with some kind of poison gas, or so Joker said. He said if we opened them then all of these people would die. Filled with open glass jars I figure. Take them out to sea on an abandoned boat and sink it, leagues out so that we know it will be safe. Don't let anyone but your most trusted men touch them."

James nodded, "Alright, and what are you going to do?"

Bruce pointed up to the turret, "Lord Tywin's chained to a chair up at the top of the first turret. Joker was there, it was either save these people or take him down. I need to find him and quickly, before he has time to plan another mass slaughtering."

Bruce grabbed on to the bolt-head from the wall and hit the small lever at its base just as Lucius had shown him making the three small arms withdraw from their puncture wounds in the stone. As he wound the metal line quickly he began walking from the well-lit, and rather loud square. He stopped a moment and turned back as Gordon called out from behind him.

"I forgot to say thank you, for the Half-Mask, not giving up on me or the city through Lord Tywin's self-imposed reign, and tonight. I just, I never said thank you," James Gordon said while looking at the ground in shame. When finished, he looked up to see if Bruce had heard what he had said.

Bruce looked Gordon in the eye. "And you'll never have to." He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the nearest alley. City folk crowded into the alley to see where he had gone, but by that time he had disappeared and was climbing back up to the top of the turret where he had left Tywin.

By this time Lord Tywin had regained consciousness, and when he saw Batman appear he sneered in disgust. Bruce pulled the second bolt head from the wall as Tywin cleared his throat to speak. "I suppose I should thank you for saving me. Not that that will do my men any good."

Bruce turned to face him and aggressively paced forward until his face was inches from the balding lord's. "I _warned_ you to leave my city. You were the one that stayed; you cannot place the blame for your men's deaths on my head. That weight stands solely on your shoulders for being a pompous, arrogant fool. Now for the second time, leave my city and do _not_ return. Or the Joker will be the least of your concerns."

Before Tywin could respond Bruce had disappeared back into the night, leaving the old man to sit alone, bound by his pride to his sins.

_**James**__:_ Chapter 12 

Lord Tywin mounted his horse and gazed out over the crowd that had gathered. Ever since the Joker's upstaging two nights ago, the people had been in a constant state of unease. Lord Tywin had lost most of his forces, down to but a mere fifty if that. No city folk had been killed, but watching a few centuries of men die in an instant had certainly taken its toll. The city seemed to have a darker cloud of gloom over it than usual. _They weren't my men…but they very well soon could be._

They had been scouring the city day and night these past two days looking for any sign of the Joker, but once again he had disappeared. Even the men the Batman had captured two nights ago new nothing of the Joker's plan or location. It worried James greatly, but at least he had one thing to look forward to. Lord Tywin was leaving the city today, after his prolonged visit. His proud tail between his legs and a shadow of his former strength at his back. James smirked, _the powerful lord of Casterly Rock, beaten by a clown and a man dressed as a bat._

Tywin rode up to Gordon and the dozen or so guards at his back, his face solemn and weary from his last few days in Gotham. "Ser Gordon, if you would, I would care to give my thanks to your lord for his hospitality. I would also like to give you my thanks for helping me in my fight to save this city. It simply pains me to say that we have failed."

James looked up at the now-powerless lord before him, and smiled. "I will tell him, and the city hasn't been lost yet my lord. It just needs a different protector I suppose. Have a safe ride back to your rock my lord. "

Before Tywin could respond James rounded on his heels and began walking in the opposite direction, a smirk on his face. Lord Tywin called out behind him, "This isn't over Ser. By the Seven I have not given up on winning this war!"

James turned to face the lord briefly and gave a light chuckle, "My lord, I think this city has already shown you that outsiders are not welcome."

Tywin's face twisted in anger, "Do you find this _funny_ Ser?"

James smiled again, "Well my lord, it damn sure isn't sad." He turned and headed back to the City Watch's keep, not caring to listen to the Lion Lord's retort. There was the faintest bounce in his step, something that had not been present since James' youth as a knight. His men fell in line behind him, and as he rounded the corner putting Lord Tywin out of sight a feminine voice called out his name.

"Ser Gordon!" the voice shouted. As James turned back to face his caller, he was surprised with the sight he was met with. She was a rather beautiful woman, taller than James by a few inches. She had blonde hair down past her shoulders and had the lightest green eyes James had ever seen. She had a narrowed chin, and was wearing a green velvet tunic with a brown leather riding vest and matching breeches. _Hardly regular woman's wear,_ James thought to himself.

"Uhh, yes my lady? How can I assist you?" James managed to say while his mind grappled with forming the simple phrase.

"I do hope that outsider remark you made to Lord Tywin does not apply to all visitors Ser," she said with a sly smile.

James felt his cheeks grow warmer, surely they were reddening, "Oh no my lady. Just a suggestion to those who try to come into this city thinking they can change it how they see fit."

"So only those who live _in _this city can change it as they see fit?"

_She's smart, I will give her that._ "_Ha_, I am not trying to change the city, for that is an impossibility."

She raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? Then what would you call what you try to do in this city, if not attempting to control and change it?"

"This city is unable to be controlled, and it has not changed all that much in my many years here. No, this city is a storm that is unavoidable and unforgiving. Trying to control this city would be like a sea captain attempting to rule the waves and storms of the ocean."

The woman scrunched her brow in thought, James thought she somehow looked even more attractive as her eyebrows bent inwards and her eyes looked through the street as if gazing upon the earth's center. "So what would you be?"

James smiled, "I'm a ship captain, but I'm not trying to control the waves and tides and storms. Merely guide my ship full of innocent smallfolk safely through the treacherous tidings of the sea as safely as I can."

"I like that answer Ser Gordon," she nodded her head in agreement and looked forward. The three spires of the City Watch's main keep loomed ahead, the turrets rising up into the sky. The crowd was following James and his litter, returning home after seeing Lord Tywin off.

"I don't recall hearing your name my lady," James inquired.

"Essen, Ser, Sarah Essen. My father was and continues to be the leader of Highgarden's city guard, and after the recent developments here…Lord Tyrell thought it best if there were a friendly face to see how you and your men were faring."

James could smell lies like a hunting hound smelled a deer in the woods. "You mean to check on us and see if Gotham will cause your Lord any problems should my men and I lose control you mean? Everyone around Gotham feels the need to try and tame the beast of this city it seems, and Tyrell sends a woman no less."

"Well Ser, you do have a murderous clown running loose on the streets. Tales have also spread through the streets of Highgarden of a large direbat, or man, or some combination of both flying through the night and plucking up criminals as if they were flies. Also Ser, I am a woman yes, but a woman that could easily best with you a sword in hand," she replied curtly as they reached the keep's steps.

"Oh I highly doubt that my lady. I pray you do not take offense, but I am quite capable with a sword. As for our "bat" problem, leave that to Gotham to handle. We haven't had…_pleasant _experiences with visitors coming into our city trying to handle our problems for us, so I'm unsure of what form of welcome you'll receive," James politely warned, standing on the stairs between her and the keep's entrance.

Sarah smiled politely, "Ohh I am well aware of your prowess with a sword, _Fiery Blade_, but that doesn't mean your blade hasn't rusted with age. And I wouldn't worry about my welcome if I were you, I have an uncanny skill to take care of myself." Before James could respond or move, she was walking past him and up into the keep. James turned, thinking over the brash woman he had just met, and followed her up and inside.

_And so Lord Tywin leaves Gotham with his tail between his legs, but how long will he suffer this shame? What does Joker have up his sleeve next? And what does Highgarden's involvement spell for Gotham? Any reviews would be appreciated!_


	28. Selina 13 : Alfred 12

_**Selina**_: Chapter 13

Selina had lost count of how long she had been locked in this wooden cell. It still bested her old one of stone by leagues, but a cell of solitude is a cell of solitude no matter what the walls are made of. Selina was no longer apathetic of whether she lived or not like she had been when she was rescued. She had to live, she had to fight, and as always, she had to _survive_. She had a renewed will, but it came with a constant spike of pain. Whenever she thought of how strongly she wanted to live, the memory of Holly always drove into her gut like the dagger that had killed the poor girl.

She missed Holly greatly, but her overwhelming grief had been replaced by anger. She wished she had not killed those smugglers in such a quick fashion in that brief moment of uncontrollable rage. She wished they still lived, so she could make their deaths slow and painful. The next unfortunate soul to hurt one of her girls would pray to the Seven every moment she was with him that his next would be his last.

One morning, she heard something she had not heard since her arrival. The door was unlocking. She tensed her body, preparing to strike. It was not her time to be fed, for she was just given her last meal less than two hours ago. She could barely reach the door, so she knew she would have to wait to get closer in order to subdue him and escape. The door opened, and _he_ walked in.

His armor looked even more terrifying than she remembered, as the small, dim rays of light escaping through the wooden boards of her prison lit up the outline of his person. She had a hard time making out his face, as his figure was darkened by shadow. As he took a step closer, she could see he had the same tight lipped expression on his face as he always did. His eyes as always, revealed nothing of the emotion beneath. Selina stood, looking awkwardly at the floor, unsure of what to say. _Wait, what am I doing? He is the one that imprisoned ME, after going to all the trouble of rescuing me. _

Before Selina could attempt to unleash her anger, Batman spoke, "I'm…sorry."

Selina's stomach knotted twice over, _he…apologized? Batman doesn't apologize…_ "Why did you take me here? Keep me here? After working so hard to save me?"

Batman looked at the floor. "I was waiting until Lord Tywin left. So long as you were running freely about the city, he would hunt you. I knew you would be safe here."

_He was, protecting me?_ "Why? I mean nothing to you. I'm a killer, whore, thief, by your code you should have left me there to rot and die. Why did you save me?" Selina did not understand, she had more of a connection with Bruce Wayne than she ever did with Batman. She had only ever seen Batman twice, once when he saved her the first night he appeared, and another when he visited her chambers.

"Yes you are a thief, and a killer, and you used to live as a whore as well, but that does not mean you deserved to die at Lord Tywin's command. I am here to protect the people of this city, and that includes you. You killed, and while that goes against what I believe; you did not kill out of greed, or vengeance. You killed out of the ache in your heart. That ache, it is something that is overpowering, I understand how one can lose themselves in it…."

_He's lost someone before…and killed before…_That was the only way Batman could know of the pain she felt in her soul right now. She waited a few moments before responding, thinking of the correct way to phrase such a question, "Who was it? That died?"

Batman looked up to her, locking eyes. "No one that matters now…"

Selina would not accept that response. "It was enough to make you kill."

Batman then did something Selina had never seen her do, _react_. Selina saw his eyes widen through those narrow slits in his helm, and he was at a loss for words for a few moments. "You do not know that of which you speak. Let it alone." Selina knew she had hit a weak spot in that impenetrable armor of his, she had to see it through. "Who did you kill?"

Batman tightened his hand into a fist, and a grimace grew upon his lips. He was in some form of inner anguish and turmoil, Selina could see that plainly. She had taken a few steps closer to him without realizing it, and now she stood four paces from him at most. She wanted to reach a hand out to him, but stopped herself. _What am I doing!? He does not want your comfort Selina, he wants to live in solitude in his damn dark armor. He cares not for a woman's touch or comfort. _

Selina pulled the hand back quickly and wrapped it around her other arm as to stop herself from trying to reach out for him. She bit her lip to silence herself, she did not want to disrupt him from his troubled thoughts. After a minute, he sighed deeply, and looked up to her once more. "How I killed, was the worst way to kill of all." She was not expecting that response; she tilted her head and squinted her eyes in confusion. "How then?"

"It was not out of anger, or jealousy, bloodlust, hatred, sorrow, it was…without emotion. It was cold, logical, thought out…I should have killed him out of anger, vengeance… I killed him with precision and with a month's worth of planning…I…"

Batman stopped himself, and grew silent once more. Any anger Selina had had towards Batman for imprisoning her was gone, washed away by the hurting, splintered soul she saw before her now. She stepped closer, until her face was less than a foot from his. She drew her arm up, and brought the back of her hand across his face with a loud _smack_. He reached a hand up to touch the reddened spot where she had struck, suddenly looking more irritated than confused.

"_That_ was for imprisoning me," she said before leaning her head in. She planted a soft kiss on his lips, feeling the warmth of her lips touch the cold stone of his. His lips did not move, in fact, he made no move to embrace her, or stop her. She let her lips linger there for a few moments before stepping back and looking to the side in sudden embarrassment. "And that was for…saving me…"

Batman took a step towards her now, and was the one to lean _his_ head in. His face laid idle beside her cheek, his warm breath blowing against her cheek rhythmically. He swallowed before whispering, "I'm sorry." Selina felt a familiar prick in her arm where his hand was wrapped around it. Before she slowly slipped into unconsciousness she remembered thinking, _Bastard._

When she awoke she was wrapped under the warm blankets of her bed, surrounded by the multiple colored furs and quiet meowing of her cats. She turned on her side to look out the window, night had fallen, but for once she did not feel like going out. She rolled onto her back and found Isis and Meelo sitting on the pillow beside her staring into her eyes. "Come here my sweetlings, mama's home." They immediately jumped into the space beneath her neck and entangled into each other, cozying up against her chin.

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 12

Batman had won. He had fended off the Joker, Tywin Lannister, and a city that had turned aganst him, but in the end he had survived and won. As Alfred entered his chambers and changed into his silken bed-dressings, he could not help but wonder at what cost these victories were for. Yes Batman had won this fight, and he might win the next and the next, but what would happen when he loses. Would he lose his life, would Gotham lose its one chance at hope?

Alfred slunk into his chair beside the fire, and wondered what it was all for. _Yes he can defeat Lord Tywin, Deathstroke, the Joker, but eventually this path will claim his life, and what then? What becomes of the legacy of the Waynes, what becomes of Master Richard, what becomes of their loyal servant who would have lost everything in this life that he had come to love…how will this end?_

He lifted his book from the small table beside him, but could not bring himself to read any of the words on the pages. He sat there, staring at the sentences and hoping that this was not the way it had to be. Alfred had accepted that Gotham needed Batman, he just wished Bruce would not have to inevitably give his life just for a _chance _at giving Gotham new life.

As Alfred finally decided sleep was his best option, a bright light shone from behind him. Alfred turned his head to look behind his chair, but the light was so blinding that he had to hide his eyes and turn back around. Then he heard it, a voice without any emotion or hint of a pitch in it, just one, flat tone.

"It is all for something, of that much I can assure you," the voice said from somewhere behind his chair. Alfred swallowed slowly, sweat beginning to form on his brow. He stood from his chair, and reached for the iron fire poker laid against the stone brick hearth. The voice predicted Alfred's intentions, "That will not be necessary. To answer the next three questions in your head. No I am not here to kill you. Yes, you are awake. No, I am not a ghost or demon."

Alfred's spine froze over. His eyes paralyzed open in apprehension, terror seeping into his heart. He let go of the fire poker, and turned to face his unexpected visitor. Facing him from the corner of the room stood a man in queerer armor than even Batman's. His body was covered in a dark blue material that was as smooth looking as silk but clung to his body tightly. His armor looked like it were forged of pure gold, with golden gauntlets, a belt, boots, and cape. The cape was tethered to his chest by a large golden medallion with some starred emblem sculpted into it. His helmet though, was what was the most grabbing to Alfred's eye. It was golden like the rest of his dressings, but it was reflective as water, and covered the entirety of the stranger's head flatly as if he had no nose or mouth. A ridge of metal rose from the helm just above where his hairline would have been and reached back to behind his skull. The only notable characteristic of the helmet were the two eye slits, glowing a fiery golden hue that looked as if they could steal Alfred's soul.

"W-who are you?" Alfred managed to ask. The sight of this stranger frightened Alfred more so than even seeing the Joker for the first time.

An un-muffled voice spoke from the helmet, as if it weren't coming from his mouth at all. "My name is not important, but my purpose here is. I am here to show you how all of this, as you put it,_ ends_." Alfred realized he was holding his breath, and exhaled hurriedly while never letting his eyes drop from the fiery gaze of his visitor. The man continued, "But I must correct you there. For this does not _end._ This, is merely the beginning."

Alfred took a step closer. "The beginning of _what_?"

The stranger rose a hand, "Allow me to show you."

A light came from the palm of the man's hand, making Alfred hide beneath his arms. When he looked back up, he was no longer in his dark stoned bed chamber. The room he stood in now had a deep violet carpet covering the floor, the walls were made of stone but not the dark stone of Wayne Castle. Books stood in tall towers along the room's perimeter making most of the walls beyond visibility. Smaller stacks of books littered the floor as well, with open ones usually standing at their peaks. A long oak table stood in the center of the room, with maps and bottles littering it. There were a great amount of those as well, bottles filled with glowing liquids and mixtures of different colors littered the cabinets at the far right end of the room. A fire crackled in a marble hearth before Alfred, and two satin chairs of purple with golden frames sat beside it.

The stranger raised an arm to the fire, "Come, sit. We have much to discuss."

Alfred hesitantly took up the offer and followed him to sit in the chair opposite.

"Where are we?" the Dornishman asked.

"My home, the Tower of Fate."

"I have never heard of such a place…where are we? Asshai? Braavos? Somewhere beyond the Jade Sea?" Alfred did not understand, how did this stranger make this room appear before him? He had heard of the shadow men of Asshai, the face-changers of Braavos, but he was not familiar with a man who could make a room appear to be another room.

"These are not your chambers Alfred Pennyworth of Dorne. This is not a simple trick or illusion, this is real. But to answer your question, no, we are not in Braavos or Asshai. We are nowhere, for this tower does not lie within the realm of men," the stranger replied.

"How are you doing this? How did you take me here? How do you know who I am?"

The stranger raised a hand, and a book from the nearest tower of old tomes flew to him across the air. Alfred's jaw dropped at the impossibility he was witnessing. The book landed in the stranger's hands and he began flipping through the pages.

"The realm of man has forgotten magic, another tragedy that has been lost in the current of time. I know much about you Alfred Pennyworth, how many men you've killed, what your mother's hair smelt of whenever she knelt to kiss you good night, what your favorite place to skip rocks as a child was. Do you believe in fate Alfred Pennyworth of Dorne?"

"I uh, I suppose I do," Alfred responded, gazing into his reflection in the man's golden helmet.

"Fate is something so many men believe to be out of their grasp. That things simply happen because they are predetermined. They are wrong. Fate is no more predetermined than the way the wind blows, or how long a winter lasts. Fate is like a network of roads, interweaving like a spider's web. At every intersection there are a dozen paths, and then at each of those consecutive paths' intersections there are another dozen paths. I see all of this Alfred Pennyworth, for fate has chosen me to be its watcher."

"Watcher of…fate? But how can that be?" Alfred's mind was racing, trying to rationalize what he was seeing and hearing.

"There is disbelief in your voice. That is alright, I do not blame you for not believing in what you hear. You are a practical man Alfred Pennyworth, I value that aspect in a person. Allow me to explain. I oversee fate, in its entirety. From the smallest butterfly wings flapping amongst a summer breeze, to a man riding dragons across Westoros, I see the fate of all that has been, could have been, all that will be, and could be. Everything affects everything Alfred Pennyworth. From a man rising up against a cruel king, to a soldier not being where he was supposed to be on the battlefield, to a boy and his parents being in the wrong alley on the wrong night."

Alfred understood the stranger's intent now. "You're speaking of Bruce. All of this is about Bruce."

The stranger waited a moment before replying, "No, and yes. History remembers names and stories Alfred Pennyworth. But only of those who rise or fall, not of those who remain in between. History remembers legends, Bran the Builder, the Mad King, Aegon the Conqueror, but they forget the men who fought and died in the thousands and thousands of wars fought on bloodied soil. Time will not remember Alfred Pennyworth, time will not remember James Gordon, and time will not remember Bruce Wayne."

Alfred was confused, why bring him to this mysterious place if none of them were going to make a difference in the world? Why did Alfred need to know about fate? "So if time will not remember us, why did you bring me here?"

"Time will not remember your names as men. Stories are not told of Bran or Aegon because they were men, they are remembered because they were _symbols_. Time remembers those that symbolize and represent something more than themselves. That is why time will forget Bruce Wayne, but time will remember the _Batman_. The fates of Batman have been drawn, and those fates are infinite. Across the rivers of fate and sands of time Batman has become a legend and icon for justice," the stranger told Alfred, who was listening with rapt attention.

"But if Batman is the important one, why did you come to speak with me?"

"Because you Alfred Pennyworth, are the most important part of the rise of Batman. I have seen the paths of Batman without you, and they are wrought with suffering and darkness. Bran had his hammer, Aegon his dragons, and Batman has you, his torch to light the way. Without you Batman would become lost, a victim to his own darkness. You and I are alike in that way Alfred Pennyworth, we are both servants of the light."

Alfred grew slightly irritated at that. "You hide your face, ser_._ If Master Bruce hides his face and works in the shadows, how are you any different?"

The stranger lifted a hand and lightly traced his fingers along the flat surface of his helmet. "Unlike your lord, my helmet can never be taken off. It is the Helmet of Fate, and once put on cannot be removed until the helmet finds a worthy successor. My name is Nabu, but that is the extent of which you need to know. The things you need to know lie elsewhere."

"What do I need to know, Nabu?"

"Allow me to show you," Nabu said as he stood and walked over to Alfred. He waited for Alfred to stand, and lightly touched two fingers and his thumb to Alfred's forehead. Alfred's eyes suddenly were blinded for an instant in pure white light. Alfred blinked, and when he opened his eyes, they were standing in the cave beneath Wayne Castle. Nabu was at his side but remained silent, and then Alfred heard a familiar voice from behind him.

Alfred turned to see himself coming down the carved stairway from Thomas Wayne's study. He was older however, with white hair and a light gray mustache. His face had wrinkles and sags, and he walked hunched over slightly. He held a silver serving tray with two glasses filled with red wine on it. He walked over to a large wooden desk in the center of the cave where another older man sat.

He recognized this man immediately as well. He had a dark gray beard and hair with a scar above his right eye. His face had aged since Alfred had last seen it. The man was wearing armor similar to Bruce's Bat-armor, except this set had a darker and more twisted nature. It had longer, curved spikes jutting from the shoulder guards. The points of the helmet stood taller than Bruce's as well. The bat symbol on the chest was thicker, and the armor looked heavier and more akin to a knight's armoring.

Alfred watched this older version of himself walk over to the table and hand the Bat-armored man one of the glasses. He coughed into his hand, and then spoke, "Master Thomas, it will be time soon."

Thomas Wayne took a drink from the glass, before saying, "I know old friend, King Joffrey's armies are at our gates. Soon Gotham will be all but ash. Did I live my life right Alfred? It's been forty years since Bruce and Martha were killed. I've lived my life to keep any such tragedy from happening to another unfortunate family, but was it _enough_? Joffrey remains king, the Starks, Tullys, Baratheons, all dead. Heh, and soon the Waynes too. Do you think they would be proud of the way I've lived Alfred? Ah who am I lying to, no they would have wanted me to live for myself…it should have been me Alfred. Bruce should have been the one who lived. He was younger, he should have experienced more of life."

The older Alfred just stood there with a hand on his master's shoulder as Thomas Wayne finished his drink and stood. He placed his helmet on, and drew his sword from its scabbard on the desk. "If I am to die, I will take that incestuous spawn with me. May the Father judge me justly."

Alfred blinked as his eyes were blinded by the white light once more. When they opened, he was once again in the cave, but this time there were more inhabitants surrounding him. There was a woman standing over a desk in leather dressings and armor with lighter plating, similar to Bruce's but with a more feminine physique. She had long brown hair that was tied off in a tail and a crimson cape reaching down to the stone beneath her feet. A large direwolf with a beautiful brown coat stood beside her resting its head on the desk. Behind her a young boy with silver hair was running around in leather jerkin and wool breeches, punching and kicking at the air.

Alfred saw another version of himself in the northern corner of the cave speaking with a man with shoulder length black hair. This Alfred was older, but not as old as the Alfred that had spoken to Thomas Wayne in the last vision. The man he was speaking to also seemed familiar to Alfred, but not as easy to name as Thomas had been. This man had a narrower chin, and wore Bat-armor that looked much leaner and lightweight than Bruce's. It had a chest plate and small shoulder pauldrons, but was mostly only black, boiled leather. It was a slimmer bat insignia than was on Bruce's chest, and his armor was slightly lighter in color. A black cape clung to his shoulders with small metal bats locking it to his shoulders

The Alfred of this vision began to speak, "Master Richard, if you would please just _try_ to be more careful. With the lack of metal armoring on your suit you are far more suscep-"

The long haired man to which he was speaking cut him off with a smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Alfie, don't be so worried. I have Bruce's ghost watching over me, there is not a crossbow bolt or arrowhead or blade in the world that could kill me. Not like they could catch me anyways, I mean have you seen how swiftly I move?"

_Master Richard is just as charming in his adulthood as he is in his youth,_ Alfred thought to himself. The woman that was standing at the table sauntered over to where Dick and Alfred were speaking. "Oh Dick will you just listen to him, why must you always be such a child!"

Dick turned to face her. "Well I don't remember you complaining when you married this _child,_ Arya."

The woman's cheeks grew red and she gave him a playful smack across his cheek. "Should we try and see if Batwoman can beat Batman into the ground? Or should we just go off the last four times we've sparred."

As Dick gave her an apologetic kiss on her cheek the boy left his sparring with his imaginary partner and walked over to them. "Lord Richard, may we go out on patrol now?"

Dick ruffled the boy's silver hair and smiled. "Now Rhaegen, patience is a virtue and is important to learn."

Arya sighed, and the young boy's brow scrunched in anger. "My mother is Queen Daenaerys Targaryen, my father is King Brandon the Great! You will not speak to me in such a-"

Dick cut him off as well and laughed as he stood up, "_Ha!_ Yes Rhaegen I know who your bloody mother is, I'm your uncle after all. Alright, go on and get suited up, we'll head out soon."

Alfred was blinded again, and once again opened his eyes to find himself in the cave. This time however there were three boys of seemingly varying ages, all with black hair, and all sitting around a large oak table in the shape of the bat symbol. One sat at the tip of each wing and one in the center at its ears.

The boy on the far left wore a red and black leather riding jacket with red plates along his gauntlets and arms. He had belts overlapping across his chest to form an "X" and was reading a book with a green cover from what Alfred could see. A black and red cape clung to his shoulders and fell behind him into the chair.

The right-most boy was the youngest, and wore a green mask over his eyes and the bridge of his nose with angled points coming down over his cheeks. He had a red leather vest with light plating on it and black, boiled leather covering his arms and legs. A yellow "R" sat in a black circle sewn upon his breast. He had matching green gloves and boots, and a black cape and hood with a yellow underside. He was aggressively sharpening one of his throwing knives with a whetstone. The boy looked around as old as Dick was in Alfred's world.

The one in the middle was in fact a younger man, with longer, black hair covering his forehead and the back of his neck. He wore a pure-black, leather riding jacket and leggings with armoring even lighter than Master Richard's Bat-armor from the last vision. A blue "V" stretched down over his chest connecting from his shoulders to a point just above his abdomen. He also wore a mask similar to the youngest boy's except this one was as black as his armor. This man had no cape. Instead he wore two steel bars crossed behind his back in leather belts.

Alfred saw yet another version of himself speaking with an older Bruce Wayne as they came down the cave walkway. "Master Bruce, Ser Gordon says that King Robb is still a fortnight's ride from Gotham. There is no need to worry so."

Bruce's face had grown hardened with age, he looked older than forty now. "It does not matter Alfred. So long as Scarecrow is free, I need to find him and stop him. Whatever his plans are for Robb's arrival, they end here."

The boy that was reading laid his book down and spoke, "Bruce, can you tell your son to stop being such an annoying little imp? Alll day he prattles on about how he could kill me in my sleep and I grow so tired of it!"

The youngest boy angrily retorted standing up, "Father! Tell Drake that if he wishes to try and reprimand me he could act like there is something between his legs and challenge me to a fight to the death like an honorable man would!"

This vision's Alfred spoke up now, "Master Damian, I would ask that you please mind your language in my presence at the very least. An old man has no need to hear such obscenities."

The boy sat back down and grunted, "Pennyworth, you've got to be at least a century old by now and still haven't fallen to the ground in a puff of dust. I think you will be fine."

The young man in the middle stood up. "Damian don't be sarcastic with Alfie. He doesn't care for it that much I can assure you. Why one time, he actually tried to scrub my tongue out with water and a brush after saying 'damn.'"

Now Bruce spoke, "Damian, behave yourself and be nicer to Tim. Tim, don't do…whatever you were doing to Damian. Dick, I need you over at the _Lion's Den_ tonight, Selina says some of Cobblepot's thugs have been lingering around. Now let's move."

The light came and went, and this time the cave looked rather different. The water that had spotted the cave floor had dried up. There were also more torches lit around the walls than in the cave Alfred knew. The southern corner of the cave had collapsed and rubble and broken boulders claimed a quarter of the cave's space. There were more desks, shelves, and cabinets, but the row of glass cases in the northern corner of the cave was the most differentiating feature from the other caves.

Four glass domes stood in a row, each taller than a man and holding a life size mannequin inside. Each wooden body had a suit of armor on it. The closest one donned Bruce's Bat-armor. The second one had the black-leather suit with the blue "V" that Dick had worn in the last vision. The third held a suit that Alfred wasn't familiar with. It had a feminine frame with a woman's breast plate, but was made of the same darkened steel and leather that Bruce's suit was made of. The final one was a smaller suit, for a boy, and had a red, boiled leather vest with dark green leggings and boots.

Alfred turned to see an older man and a boy sitting at a large wooden table in the center of the cave. The man had a very old and wrinkled face with finely cut, snow-white hair. He wore a black doublet and a black wooden cane rested against his chair. He looked very solemn as he sat there drinking a glass of white wine. The boy had shaggy brown hair, and was dressed in a simple cotton tunic and breeches. He had an oddly thin sword laid out in front of him. It was smaller than a standard blade and looked like it was forged to only be wielded with one hand. A wolf pup sat at his feet, gnawing on a bone contentedly.

Then, a horse came galloping into the cave through the tunnel with yet another Batman atop it. This Batman had no cape, armor that appeared was blacker than night, and a narrowed red bat symbol across his chest. He appeared smaller and leaner in size than Bruce's Batman. His helm also covered his entire face and had longer points attached to the top of it. The rider dismounted, and walked over to the table as he pulled off his helmet. The young man had fuller lips than Bruce, and a more boyish face. His hair reached halfway down his face and was dark black, just as the others'. He sat down and took a glass from the older man and poured himself a small amount of wine.

The old man coughed, and then spoke, "McGinnis, how did it go?"

The young man armored in black replied, "There were fifteen Jokers, all now safely in Captain Gordon's hands and rotting in cells."

The white haired man looked apathetic still. "Barbara's day has been made I'm sure. Any word from King's Landing?"

McGinnis stood and walked over to behind the young boy and ruffled his hair. "Nope, King Darris Baratheon still has no idea where young Ned Stark is. How are you doing little man?"

The little boy giggled before looking up at him, "Terry, this juice tastes like horse droppings, _hehe_."

Terry looked up to the old man who grunted and sourly said, "Alfred always could grind the oranges better."

Alfred's breath caught in his throat as he realized the old man before him was actually his dear Master Bruce. _He looks so different, but…I suppose I should thank the Seven that he managed to live into his old years._

As the young boy Ned and his direwolf pup began chasing Terry around the cave Alfred turned back to Nabu who had been silent as the grave this entire time.

"Why are you showing me these things? To what end?"

Nabu stood as still as he had during each vision. "To show you the importance of what has happened Alfred Pennyworth. To show you that more than just the Gotham of your timeline is affected by the dawn of Batman, but entire worlds across thousands, dozens of thousands of timelines as well."

When Alfred closed and opened his eyes again, he was in a cave, but not the normal black walls of the other caves. This one had dark-stoned bricks making up its walls, and seemed more a dungeon than a cave. It was a smaller room, perhaps as large as Thomas Wayne's study, and had old shelves and bookcases filled to the brim with old tomes and bound sheets of parchment.

Suddenly the black iron door at the other end of the room opened, and this vision's Batman walked in. He had no cape, but wore a dark gray, steamed leather jacket that stretched down to his shins. It had pauldrons on his shoulders that curved up at the ends, along with a chest plate with a sharp-edged bat sigil across it. The helm had the shortest points of any helmet Alfred had seen thus far, but it still revealed the man's chin and mouth. Dried blood was splattered on his hands and gauntlets.

As the man sat down in an old wooden chair at his desk and removed his helm, Alfred saw that the man had a bald head. His eyes were dark green, one of them had a scar over it reaching from above where his hair line would be down to his jaw. He had a stoic, hardened face, just as Bruce did. A white cat with a thick, furry coat crawled out from behind a bookcase and wove its way in between the man's legs. He picked it up, and rested it in his lap as he pet it.

He began speaking to it, "I killed him, I killed the Joker. I did it Alfred, _I did it_."

The man scratched the cat under its chin eliciting a loud purr. "Alfred, I wonder how father would feel. Knowing I avenged his death. He probably would scold me, he did hate killing so. But there was no other choice Alfred, surely he would have been able to see that. _Sigh_, I wish he was still here, I could use his wisdom now more than ever."

Alfred had seen all he could handle. He turned on Nabu, "I am done with this. I wish to see no more! None of these show me any worth to what Bruce is doing. Only reaffirm that it always ends with Bruce either alone or dead! I care not to see anymore, now return me to my chambers so I may fall asleep with my book in my hand and not have to see another world with orphan boys dwelling in a dark cave beneath the earth."

Nabu said nothing, and Alfred's eyes once again were blinded only for him to return to his chambers, sitting in his chair with his book across his lap. _Ah, finally, the nightmare has ended. _As he began to open his book his door burst open, and a young girl ran in to hide behind his chair. "My word, girl remove yourself from there and show me your face." The girl giggled and walked out in front of Alfred. She had dark green eyes as well, and straight, black hair that dangled past her shoulders. She was wearing a black, silk night gown with the bat of Wayne embroidered in its center.

"Where did you get this my dear?" Alfred began to ask her before he heard footsteps thundering down the hall. Bruce burst into the room, but not the Bruce that Alfred remembered. He was older, barely past thirty it seemed. His hair was cleanly cut and he was wearing black, silk bed-dressings similar to the young girl's. But what was most estranging, he actually looked…_happy_.

"Oh there you are Helena! Trying to hide behind Alfred won't save you now!" He ran to her and scooped her up into his arms. She giggled the entire time as Bruce tickled her belly. Then a woman walked in who Alfred recognized immediately. Selina Kyle now wore her hair past her shoulders in beautifully elegant curls. She wore an elegant night dress of red silk with bright gold trimmings and edges.

"Bruce, do let our daughter go to bed before she becomes some creature of the night!" She said in equal parts scolding and jest.

Bruce turned to her. "Oh my love, do not worry so much. Helena was just learning what happens when you anger _the Bat!_ Weren't you sweetling?" The little girl giggled and nodded her head. Selina turned to Alfred, "My apologies Alfred for these two clowns disturbing your peaceful reading. We'll excuse ourselves."

Alfred stuttered as he tried to find the words to speak, "U-uh no it's quite alright my lady. No harm done here." He felt, _warm_, inside. A sort of warmth he had not felt since watching a young Bruce play with his father beside the fire while he read in his chair and Lady Wayne sat sewing in hers.

The two loving parents smiled before leaving the room to take their daughter to bed. Alfred stood from his seat and looked around the room. It was exactly the same as his chambers in his world, or time, or whatever magic this illusion all was. When he turned back to the fire, Nabu was standing before him with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Why did you _show_ me this!? To _taunt_ me? To show me that Bruce could be happy with a loving wife and daughter? Not stuck in some dark pit beneath this place? _Why?!_" He yelled at the gold-helmeted stranger.

Nabu did not move. "There are streams of fate flowing from the great ocean of time that do end with Bruce being happy. There are also those that end with him dead. It is so for all men and women who walk this earth Alfred Pennyworth. But no man has affected so many timelines so greatly, than Batman. A fear not even Brandon the Builder or Aegon the Conqueror can match such a feat."

"But Bruce Wayne _is_ Batman. The boy I watched grow to be so full of sorrow, rage, determination, _he_ is Batman!"

Nabu turned to the fire. "No, he is only the _beginning_. You saw the others, Damian Wayne, Terrence McGinnis, Arya Stark, Timothy Drake, Richard Grayson, Rhaegen Targeryen, young Eddard Stark, they all become something _more_ because of the legacy of Batman. There must always be a Batman. And where there is a Batman, there must be an Alfred Pennyworth. I have shown you these timelines, to show you that it all _does_ matter. You have affected and shaped every timeline. You will not be remembered in song, you will not be remembered in story, but the legacy of the Batman will _always, always_ include you. But when you return to your world, you will forget most of what you have seen. If you kept all of this knowledge it would cause too much damage to the rivers of fate, and you could be thrown into a river you were not meant to tread. I am sorry."

Alfred was thoroughly confused now. "Then if you won't even let me remember, why _show me all of this in the first place?"_

"I recall telling you that you would not remember _most_ of what you have seen. Right now, the feeling in your stomach, it is not rage, or anger, or sorrow, but _acceptance_. Through what you have seen you can _accept _the flow of fate. You are now aware that it _does_ mean something, that Bruce Wayne becoming Batman does achieve something more than just the rest of his days in a sorrowful cave. Now you will return to your world, keeping that feeling that all of this is truly _for_ something. Your doubts will be laid to rest, so that you can best light the way while Bruce walks his treacherous path."

Alfred looked into the fire, watching it dance along the bark of the logs slowly turning their dance floor black and burnt. He looked Nabu in his fiery eyes and said, "Very well, if you say this is to aid me in helping Master Bruce, then I accept this burden."

Nabu slowly paced over to him, and laid a golden glove on the Dornisman's shoulder. "You are a loyal and truly noble man Alfred Pennyworth. I can see why you affect the dawn of Batman so intimately now. Just remember these words, you cared so greatly for the legacy Thomas and Martha Wayne left behind. You believed that to be Bruce. He believes it to be the bricks and glass and stone that make up their castle. You are both wrong, the legacy of the Waynes is _Batman._ Without the Waynes, there is no Batman, and without Batman, many, innumerable even, timelines would be much, much darker. As Thomas Wayne once told his son, the things in the dark are what can best help the_ light_. Through you, Bruce can light the first torch that brings light to so many worlds. So do not fret Alfred Pennyworth of Dorne, for it all is for a purpose. It is all just another touch from the hand of _fate."_

Nabu lifted his hand, and Alfred was once again blinded. When his eye lids lifted, he looked around and was back in the comfort of his own chambers once more. He tried to remember how he got into his chair, he felt groggy almost as if he had been sleeping. _No I wasn't sleeping, or was I? I suppose it matters not, the dark of the late night plays games with a man's mind._

He stood, not remembering why he had left his bed to sit by the fire, but returned to beneath his silk sheets and fell into a truly peaceful and restful sleep. The first he had had in more than fifteen years.


	29. Richard 11: Alfred 13: Joker 5

_**Richard**_: Chapter 11

"Alfred! Alfred! Nightwing's not moving in his cage! Help me! _Please_!" Dick shouted from outside the locked doors to Thomas Wayne's study. He sprinted to the end of the hall and hid behind the corner. He peered out and waited. Within moments the servant burst from the doors and ran down the hall to Dick's chambers. Once he was halfway to his destination, Dick sprinted out from his hiding place and ran to the doors to the study that had been left open in Alfred's careless haste.

Just as Alfred heard the steps behind him and realized he had been tricked, Dick had already reached the old oak doors into the secretive room. Dick ducked in and closed and locked the doors before the Dornishman could reach the room in time. He turned his back to the locked doors and gazed upon the room. His eyes searched, he wasn't sure what for, but they searched for _something_. There had to be some reason why the doors were always closed and Bruce and Alfred were inside while Dick was left to himself outside.

It was his thirteenth name day tomorrow, and had been near a week since Lord Tywin had left Gotham. Dick had decided not to leave with Tywin, knowing he would not forgive himself for fleeing the city without discovering what secret Bruce and Alfred were hiding. _What secret could a cripple and an old man possibly be hiding?_

He stuffed a chair under the door's brass handles, assuring that Alfred couldn't find his way back inside. Within a few moments of the chair being jammed against the door, the handles shook. Alfred called out, "Master Richard you will open these doors right now! This is Master Bruce's private place of peace and quiet and you would do well to leave it be!"

Dick paid the shouting Dornishman no mind. He looked around the room, looking for something that stuck out, that seemed out of place. He looked through and across the rows of books on the nearest wall, finding nothing. The sun light reflected off of the marble head of Thomas Wayne, making him appear almost transcendent. _There._ Dick ran to the bust and glided his hands over the entirety of the head and its podium to no avail. _I heard something moving, I know I did. Something…smooth…_

Dick set his gazes upon the fireplace on the far side of the room. _There?_ He ran to it and looked over every nook and edge of the pit, coming up with nothing once more. _This had to be the sound, but it could not move…_Dick looked to the tall shelf of books to the left of the fireplace. He tried pushing it, but it would not budge. It was locked in place, but Dick could not tell if it was from the weight of the books, or something _else_. He glided his hands over the rows of books, pulling out the occasional one to skim the pages, hoping he would find some semblance of a clue.

Alfred had stopped his assault on the doors, probably off to find something to break them down with. Dick was running out of time. He grabbed a stool to search the higher up shelves that lay beyond his reach. _The Age of Artorias, Dawn of the Age of Heroes, Herbs of the North, _Dick read all of the titles as he pulled every other dusty tome from its place. Then his hand came upon one that did not have an ounce of dust on it, _The Shadows of Man._

Dick pulled the book from its place, only to be stopped after a few inches. He heard something wooden _thud_ behind the staircase and took a few cautious steps backwards as he looked wearily at the shelf of books towering over him. A few moments later, a second _thud _came and the book case slowly began sliding to the side. It slowly pushed in front of the fireplace, as a chilling breeze blew from the gaping hole it left. Dick looked into the dark stoned tunnel that dipped down into black shadows below. A ladder rose up from the shadows and ended three feet from where Dick stood.

He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. _Into the darkness I must go. _The first step onto the stone was the hardest, but each successive one slowly grew easier. He slid down the ladder a dozen or so feet and his feet touched stone once more. Torches were anchored to the wall every dozen or so steps, illuminating his way. His footsteps echoed down the long, dark pathway. A cold shiver worked its way up his spine and when it reached his skull the entirety of his bones made him feel as if he were atop the Wall. Then he heard it, the sound of a hammer on steel.

Dick quickened his steps, seeing a pale light now coming from the end of the tunnel downwards. When he reached it, he looked out and could hardly believe what he saw. It was a giant cavern with bats and hanging fangs of stone littering its roof. There was a horse, black as night, tethered near an outward reaching tunnel on the far end of the cave. One corner was completely submerged in water, while the opposite corner had a small wooden shack standing on its own. Then Dick's eyes traced to the nearest corner, where Lucius Fox was standing at his anvil, hammering away at some oddly formed piece of metal.

Dick walked closer, the older man not hearing him due to the loudness of his work. When Dick was twenty paces from him, Lucius took notice quickly of the sudden movement. He looked up, and his eyes grew wide. He dropped his hammer, and after a few moments cleared his throat loudly with a coarse cough into his fist. The Summer Islander looked off somewhere behind Dick, which made the young boy turn. Then he saw it, or _him_ rather. His armor was so dark Dick must have glanced over him in his first inspection of the cave assuming him to be a shadow or part of the black stone itself. He was less monstrous than Dick imagined, but with stories of him being half-direbat or sired from the darkness in criminals' hearts it was hard to picture exactly how he would have looked. Batman stepped closer to Dick, stopping when he was but a pace from where the boy stood. He towered over Dick, before kneeling down to meet his gaze at an even height.

"Y-you're…" Dick stuttered, in too much awe to form the rest of the sentence.

The pointed-helmed stranger nodded, before speaking in a grizzled, dark voice, "I am Batman. Alfred should not have let you come. How did you find this place?"

Dick turned as he heard rushed footsteps echoing down the path he had just come. Alfred ran into the cave panting and gasping for breath. Dick turned back to Batman and answered, "I tricked him in to leaving the room. When he was gone I ran in and barred the door. I checked the bookcase next to the fireplace, and there was a book without any speck of dust on it. I pulled it, and the shelf moved to the side.

Batman then did something Dick did not expect, he _smirked_. The helmeted stranger stood, and looked over to his servant as he heaved for breath. Dick spoke again, "Did he let you use his grounds? Does Bruce know you're down here?" _If Batman is here, then where is the ground's true crippled Lord?_

Batman continued smirking, "Well I do hope so." He raised his hands and removed his helmet. When Dick saw the face beneath he was stunned, _no, he's a cripple. He walks with a limp and a cane, he doesn't do anything for this city but sit and brood in his room day and night…it can't be…_

Bruce Wayne knelt down once more, and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. Alfred had walked over to where they stood now, and Bruce looked up to him. "Alfred, I find it hard to believe a boy of but two-and-ten has outsmarted you with such ease. Well now, that begs the question, what shall we do with you?"

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 13

_Yes ser, what are we supposed to do with him? He knows your secret now, all of them. We can't just send the boy away. I don't know how he would take living here with this great secret upon his shoulders like I have done, I just…_

Bruce spoke again, "Tell me what you feel Dick, truthfully."

"Angry, why would you and Alfred keep this from me? I've been here for months now and the both of you have outcast me with this secret. I feel more alone now than I did when I first arrived! Alfred tries to keep me company but when I know the whole time he is hiding something from me it just makes me feel like I'm with a mirage! And you, you have barely spoken or done anything since I've been here save for the day we found Nightwing! My only friend in this whole castle is a hawk…This whole time you were him…You found my parents' killer."

Bruce nodded. "Yes, I did find him and his little gang. They're all in Gordon's jail cells now. I didn't want you have to experience losing your parents like I had. They never found my parents' killer. I still don't even have the slightest semblance of a clue as to his true identity, but I could give your parents justice. I could bring in their killer, and spare you that life of wondering and irresolution."

The boy's eyes grew watery with tears. "You would have done them justice by caring for their son. Not running around at night trying to get the man who killed them. He would have been found eventually. _I _needed _Bruce Wayne_ to tell me what to do with myself, not Tony Zucco needing the Batman to find him. I have all of this anger, and I don't know what to do with it! My father, used to say anger was a more deadly poison than any made by man, even more deadly than any the Red Viper has spawned. I just…to know you've been _him _this whole time, why didn't you tell me?"

Alfred looked on as these two orphans came to grips with one another. Alfred knew Bruce meant well with his endless pursuit of Tony Zucco, but it was not what the boy needed. There was a great amount of truth in Dick's words, and Alfred was saddened by the fact that the boy thought so little of him. _I tried Master Richard, but as I have well learned, there is no way to mend a boy's broken heart and soul._ Bruce was the only one that could help Dick, Alfred knew that, and the Dornishman feared he knew what that would mean if Bruce were to best help the boy.

Bruce sighed, "I'm sorry Dick, I did not mean to leave you alone. This life I have chosen…it's a very solemn and solitary one. I cannot be close to anyone, let anyone know my secrets, of which there are many. I cannot love, wed, start a family…This mission is my life. Alfred, Lucius, they both help me achieve it. You were an unexpected addition into my life, and with my course and plan set in an unstoppable motion forward when you arrived…I knew not how to handle you. I am sorry we have made you feel alone, made you angrier at the world. I understand that anger, believe me Dick, it is why I became Batman. To stop anymore boys from losing their parents to killers who believe themselves to be out of reach of the repercussions for their actions. But I have failed you, and for that I apologize. If you wish to leave, to tell my secret in spite, if you wish to stay and not talk to any of us, or go back to the circus, we will not stop you or sway your choice." Bruce looked down at the ground in failure, a look Alfred had rarely seen on his master's face since his return. Even when he was bloodied and near death after fighting Deathstroke, Bruce still did not have an ounce of failure written on his face. Now it were if his face were telling a story's worth of it.

Dick tightened his hands into fists. "No. I'm not running, not anymore. I want to join you."

Alfred and Bruce were both taken aback, not expecting that decision in the slightest. Lucius merely cocked an eyebrow and cracked a grin. "No Dick, this is my life. You can go on and be married, have a young little Grayson boy of your own someday. You do not need to subject yourself to this life. This is my life's burden to bare, not yours," Bruce tried to explain. _Familiar words if I've ever heard them. _

"You had that choice when you were younger as well, and you chose this path. I cannot move on from my parents' death, but I can use it to help me fly again. Since arriving here I felt purposeless, unable to piece my life back together. I know now _this_ is the way. I am going to make the same decision you made, and if you do not approve then I will strike out on my own, as you did, and find the way down this path on my own," Dick stated with a determination beyond his years. The tears were gone, replaced be a fiery determination that blazed in the light blue lakes of his eyes.

Bruce looked up to Alfred seeking counsel, unsure of what to tell the boy. Alfred knew what he must tell him. _This all means something, I know not what, but I have a feeling this is the way things are meant to be. It hurts my heart to say so, but Bruce needs this boy there…He will be his beacon of light should I ever falter._ _May the Father judge me justly._ "Master Bruce, I think you have found your _true_ ward."

Bruce's eyes widened, not expecting that reply any more so than he had Dick's. "Alfred, the boy will be in constant danger, he is only _two-and-ten._ He does not know how to fight, or think when there are blades swinging for his head, it is too dangerous."

Alfred smirked. "My pardons Master Bruce, but I do believe the boy is soon to be _three_-and-ten. Allow me to tell you of a memory that is burned into my mind, ser. It is of a boy, standing over his parents' lifeless bodies, angry at the world as if its entirety had wronged him. Now, this boy had two paths. One led to rage, self-destruction, and a purposeless life his parents never wanted him to have. The other, was one of purpose, _meaning,_ a life that used their deaths to do something _more_. I remember watching that boy sail away on a ship bound for only the Seven knew where. I remember watching the purpose of _my life_, sail away with a nine year old boy, a child that was determined to become something _more._ And now, this boy before you wishes to do the same. I think you stopping him would be no more different than if I had prohibited you from leaving all those years ago."

Bruce looked back to the boy, before staring off around the cave. Alfred's words had hit their mark like an arrow piercing through the center of a target. Alfred looked to young Dick, who was looking up at Bruce with a great amount of anticipation. _I only pray I have not condemned this boy to death._

Bruce turned and looked to Lucius, "My friend, your thoughts on this matter?"

Lucius smiled, "Well Bruce, I think I have just the thing."

The old blacksmith walked over to an old wooden cabinet he kept some of his odder creations in and opened the doors with a loud, echoing creak. He bent down to scoop something up from the floor of the cabinet, and turned back to face them as he walked over. In his arms was a leather garment of some sort, Alfred could not tell until he held it up into the light.

It was a leather riding vest with a crimson torso and green, spherical spaulders covering the shoulders. Four, pale yellow straps hung from one side of the vest's front, fashioned to tighten the garment close to its wearer's chest. A golden, steel disc was fastened to its right breast and lay blank of any sigil. Lucius handed it to Dick. "Well try it on son."

Dick smiled as he hurriedly pulled the garment on and fastened it up the middle. It fit perfectly, Alfred could see, as if Lucius knew the boy's measurements by heart. He looked to the blacksmith with a puzzled expression making Lucius laugh, "I've always had a particular skill for sizing a man up the first time I laid eyes on him."

Alfred accepted the man's vague explanation, and watched Dick back flip and twirl across a few of the nearest rock formations. "I cut it at the sleeves to provide mobility, the boy is smaller than you but he is damn sure more agile. I can attach a chest plate or larger shoulder guards for protection if you'd prefer. I've been tinkering on a light weight mail that he could wear as well."

Bruce turned to him, "How did you know he would join me?"

Lucius laughed once more, "Oh come now Bruce, who do you believe yourself to be talking to?"

Dick landed in front of them after doing a forward flip off a nearby rock, his feet perfectly together. Bruce spoke up, "Well Dick, are you sure this is what you want? If you accept, you follow all of my orders without question. You train with me every day, and are only allowed out when I deem you ready. Understood?"

Dick gave a tight lipped but proud smile, "I've never wanted anything more."

_**Joker**__:_ Chapter 5

"Will you _hurry up!"_ Joker hated how slow his half-witted thugs could be a grand majority of the time. _They have only one mind yet it still runs so slowww, while my skull feels as if it's like to burst at any moment because of all the minds I have in here! And they STILL RUN FASTER THAN THESE FOOLS'!_

Joker contemplated killing all of them for a moment. _I could kill Mirk, Daloran and Quedcor rather quickly, Ha! Imbeciles. Mol and Kol…could be a tad more difficult. A few deep slashes to their arms should slow them enough for me to slit their fat throats, oooo Hahehaha! _Joker then looked to the heavy cargo that his men were unloading. Eight heavy crates full of swords and other weapons and armaments they had stolen from a smuggler's ship in the bay. _But then I would have to carry all of that by my own little lonesome…Nahh._ He decided to let them live, for today…

This added to the haul that they had stolen from Lord Tywin's camp. He had left three swords at the entrance to the lord's tent as a show of his gratitude. Joker now had over two centuries of men at his disposal, making him one of the more powerful forces of organized crime in the sorrowful city. No man would dare challenge Joker though. After his public display at the feast and killing over five centuries of Lannister soldiers in an instant, the entire city feared him. Carmine Falcone himself even remained hidden away in some underground bunker waiting for the storm to blow over. _Between me and Bats he must be shitting himself a new pair of brown trousers._

He looked at the most precious cargo in the wagon, a beautifully engraved chest a quarter of the size of the others. It had dragons weaving their way along its sides with one circling around itself on the chest's lid. _Hehehe, oh Tywin you were just a tad late delivering this particular treasure, and now your folly is my reward_. The small chest had been locked away in the captain's quarters, in an even larger chest with a large iron lock on it.

Joker smirked to himself. "Alright boys! Load it on up and let's get this show on the road!" Mol was the one standing nearest and nodded half-mindedly in approval. _It's like they all truly are sheep looking for a shepherd. How pitiful…but not HIM._

Joker sat in the wagon's driver seat and remembered his first fateful meeting with Batman, as he often did over the days since. _His cape, his pointed little ears, his eyes, simply EVERYTHING. All so perfect. He is no sheep, oh no, he is a wolf! He has the power to tear all of these sheep limb from limb! But he chooses not to… _

The second inner voice spoke up, _because he is truly incorruptible! He is more than a man! Justice and will seep from his armor and being as stench does a corpse! _

_Yes you are right…he truly is worthy to be our nemesis. We will clash for decades for the soul of this city! Oohoohooo I simply cannot wait, I must have it NOW!_

_Patience is a virtue. The more patiently we wait, the greater our reward will be,_ the second voice chimed.

Joker frowned before replying, _and when have I ever been virtuous?_ He then burst out into hysterical laugher at the irony of trying to convince himself to be patient. His men were startled and stopped to stare for a few moments. Soon enough they returned to their work, remembering that their leader oft acted irrationally, as he was touched in the head by madness. Joker's laugh stopped abruptly, as the dreaded third inner voice of his mind spoke.

_When will you end this charade of playing with your food? You are behaving as a child would with a new toy. Grow some semblance of manhood between your legs and kill him now! Before he grows and proves to be more than we can handle. _

Joker hated his third inner voice, it was always so serious and cold. It wanted nothing more than to kill everyone he saw, but then he would have no one to make laugh. The thought saddened Joker tremendously.

_Oh you are no fun at all! Where is your sense of joy! Sometimes it IS fun to play with your food a bit before you do what must be done! _The second voice retorted.

Joker's third voice grew angrier before replying with, _You should pray to the gods that you are not a physical being or I would have jammed a knife so far into your throat that even in the afterlife you would be unable to do that irritating laugh of yours. _

Joker tried calming both of his inner antagonists, _Now, now fellows, Batman will die! I promise, but we must tear him down first! What enjoyment would there be in a kill that is at his peak! Nooo we must tear him down, to our level, and show him what the world truly is! Then, we can slit his throat, once he sees the world as the grand joke that it is!_

There was a momentary silence, before both voices in unison agreed, _fine._

Joker smiled. _Good, now that that is settled, onto our new sweet abode!_ He snapped the reigns as the last of his men jumped into the wagon's bed. They sped off down the stone street in the dead of night, no sound accompanying them but the creaking of the wood and the sound of steel rolling along pavement.

When they had reached their destination twenty or so minutes later, Joker jumped from the wagon with glee. He strode to the front doors of the structure, and looked in awe at the etchings of burning fire sculpted into them. This had once been the lair of the pyromancers of Gotham, but had been abandoned for many years. The only city left in Westoros to house the flame lurkers was King's Landing. Now only a group of thieves dwelled here. The citadel laid beyond the Narrows in a dark, forgotten part of the city. Joker had Mol and Kol push open the heavy doors, and Joker strolled in as if he were a king returning to his throne.

The inners of the citadel were dark and gloomy, much as the city itself. Mazes of spider webs littered the ceiling while dust coated the walls. Rats skittered about, fleeing the unexpected visitors. Curved arches supported the roof, sculpted to appear as dragons glaring down at those that walked beneath them. As Joker reached the inner chambers of the stone structure, he heard the familiar sound of swords sliding from sheathes. _Oh joy, we have a return celebration planned for us! Hopefully it goes better than Wayne's, HAHAHA!_

Eight thieves walked through the door that stood twenty paces in front of Joker. They wore hooded cloaks of different colorings and materials, but they all had one very familiar scent to Joker's nose, _fear_. "So! Which one of you upstanding sers is the leader of this little party of yours!" Joker called out with a smile.

One with a thick beard and a finer looking coat than the rest took a hesitant step forward. "I am ser…"

"Ohh come now, no need for pleasantries. Ser Joker was my father! _Hahahaha!_ But no, alas we have need of your fine living quarters! I offer a lovely reward in turn for your gracious hospitality! You can join our merry band of ruffians, murderers, and other unfavorable folk! What do you say lads?"

The bearded man pointed his sword at Joker's chest, "I think not _clown._"

_Oh why does one always have to prove he has a cock?_ Joker smiled, "Very well then, death it is!"

Before the man could reply, Joker through a small blade with skilled proficiency that drove itself into the thief's forehead. The hilt jutted out from between the man's eyes, blood running down his nose and chin. He collapsed to the ground, the blood now beginning to pool beneath where his face _thudded_ to the stone floor. _Wait…I did just this, the night I killed Falcone's kin…oh dear, now I'm even killing in the same tedious ways. Oh this just will not do! I must find something more entertaining and quickly._

"I suppose I should amend my previous offer. For your hospitality, we will not kill you, _and _you can join our merry band? Quite a deal eh? Sure won't find that even in King's Landing's markets! _Hahahaaaha!"_

The thieves all dropped their swords. _Yes sheep, join the flock._

"Now you lot help my boys here bring in our cargo, and with some haste please! We have so much murdering to do!"


	30. James 13: Selina 14: Richard 12

_**James**_: Chapter 13

"What do you mean someone is waiting for me in my chambers? Who is he?" James growled as he and Sarah walked up the steps of the his head keep. They had spent the day following leads of Joker's whereabouts. He had been at the docks last night, raiding a smuggler's ship of its cargo. _Building up his army no doubt._

The guard stuttered, "T-they arrived an hour ago, and sent me to find you."

"_He _summoned _me_?! I don't care if it's bloody Tywin Lannister returned to reclaim his pride, no one summons me in my city!" Gordon shouted as he skipped the last few steps and darted inside. He ran up the stairs, anger fuming over his head. _It isn't Lannister, otherwise the guard would have been white with fear. His son perhaps, the dwarf, Jaime can't leave King's Landing. Or one of Tywin's liege-lords, either way, they will get the warm welcome they deserve._

James rounded the corner into his chambers, only to find a tall, broad-shouldered man gazing out his window. He wore a plain white wool doublet and crimson cloak that reached halfway down his calves. His hands were clasped behind his back in black gloves. He was tall, and was strongly muscled or so it appeared through the garments. He had a bald head, and did not turn from the window when James entered the room.

"Ah, Ser James Gordon, it is a pleasure to meet you," the stranger said to the window. He turned, and James was rather set back by what he saw. The man had a very stern face, his lips in a tight smile. His eyes were small and sharp, scrutinizing every detail of James as they looked him up and down. A thick, dark gray beard lined his jaw from ear to ear. That and his matching eyebrows were the only hair that clung to his head.

The man walked over to where James stood, towering over him by close to a head's length. "My name is Hugo Strange. Lord Tywin has sent my men and I here to assist you in this unfortunate city."

The spark of anger that James had lost burned once more at the man's statement. "More like try to _run_ the city eh? That _is_ what your gracious lord strived to do in his visit."

Hugo shook his head. "No Ser, my lord can be aggressive and overbearing at times, but his intentions are always good at heart. Alas, I am not my lord and admittedly am not here to run this city. For I am far too f_ascinated_ by it to try and upset its natural balance."

James squinted in confusion, "You're fascinated, by Gotham?"

"No, no, not the city itself, but the _people_. People that should be without hope after all of the travesties they have suffered, but continue to hold on. And how near a third of the city's population resorts to crime and murder to achieve their own ends and survive. Then…there is _him."_ Hugo turned back to the window, looking out at the street below.

"The Batman?"

"Yes, a man who strives to be something _more_ than a man. To don such odd armor, but strike with such cunning, ferocity, _anger_, it is most curious. A man that is deemed an outcast, a freak to the rest of the world, but no, to me he is a rarity that this world is greatly in want of," the strange man replied as he gazed out.

_He seems more obsessed with Batman than even Tywin did…_but before James could speak Hugo laid his thoughts to rest. He turned from the window with a small smile, "You think me mad, Ser Gordon. Fear not, I am not touched with voices in my head, I am merely wrought with excitement. I have served as Lord Tywin's chief prison warden for near two decades, as long as you have been serving as this city's head of the City Watch if I am not mistaken. But no criminal I have had the pleasure of meeting has been as interesting or curious as this Batman."

"Why exactly did Lord Tywin send you here, ser? I can't see a man as powerful as Lord Tywin foolishly sending away his prison warden without just cause," Gordon questioned.

Hugo continued his smile. "I have not come with an army Ser, merely fifty men to help me with my goal. I have come here to ask your permission. I am not my lord, I do not wish to rudely intrude into another's city. I am asking your permission to watch over your prisons, and undertake a…_venture_ you might say."

"What sort of, venture?"

"Tell me what you know of that abandoned castle on the bay's edge," he replied calmly.

James shook his head; he had learned some things about the old, abandoned castle on the edge of Gotham Bay some time ago. It had been desolate for near a century, rumored to be haunted by the many souls tortured there. It was a desolate, godforsaken place that had been overtaken by the weeds and cobwebs many years ago. Its former lord was said to be a horrible, cruel man that became so increasingly paranoid as the years went on that he tortured his city's people in fear of them being spies. It rested on a small island to the northern side of the bay, and even the criminals feared entering its grounds.

"Arkham Castle? What of it?"

Hugo chuckled, "Yes and no Ser. It was Arkham Castle under Lord Amadeus' reign. I wish to merely make it a safer, isolated place to keep your city's criminals. I would also be inclined to study them, see if there is something that makes a man choose to take up that life in free will. My tidings do come with a…_request_ from my lord however."

_And here's the bite behind the smile. _"And what would that be ser?"

"Regretfully, my lord has ordered for the arrest of the criminal known as the Joker, for the mass murder of near six centuries of men. As well as the vigilante known as the Batman, for assisting him."

"_Assisting!?_ You call the Batman saving the city _assisting!?_" James had had enough of Lord Tywin and his flaunting of power. James knew his men, and whatever number of smallfolk they could encourage to stand with them, were no match for the might of Casterly Rock. But Tywin's disregard for Gotham's authority was an outrage. _I pray the Others will take me should I fail at keeping my city safe from the hands of Lord Tywin Lannister and his throne of golden shit!_

Hugo raised a hand. "My apologies Ser. I tried with all of my power to dissuade my lord, but he is a determined and stubborn man. He assured that should these two not be brought to justice swiftly and efficiently, that he would march on Gotham…and burn it to the ground. I am sorry Ser Gordon, I had wished to meet you on better terms than being the messenger of my lord's threat. My associate and I-"

"_Associate?"_ _Tywin's last associate was truly the Joker in disguise, I would rather not go through another surprise such as that again._ Hugo slowly and regretfully nodded, "My lord sent him along with me when I left for this city. Lord Tywin tasked him with overseeing the hunt for Batman, trusting the Joker to you."

James stepped back, he had not been expecting that. _He knows I trust Batman, and want the Joker captured as much as he does…why must I deal with one of the few smart lords left In Westoros?_

"Is he here?" James asked. Hugo replied with a nod. "He is downstairs, chatting with your men to get a better feel for the city."

"Take me to him," James said sternly.

Hugo nodded once more, and led James down the stairs to the guard's common room. The room was crowded, with men lining the walls and pooling in the middle. They stood aside and made a narrow path for James and Hugo to walk through leading to the center of the room. Sarah was there, looking over a man's shoulder who sat facing away from James at a desk. He was scribbling away intently on a piece of parchment. He wore a dark green traveler's jacket, with hair an even lighter shade of orange than James' had been in his youth.

He suddenly spoke up with a distinct sound of pride in his voice, "and _that_ is how you solve it my lady."

Sarah's face lit up with amazement. "I would never have thought of that!"

The man chuckled, "I know my lady, it is a very difficult puzzle to be sure." Hugo cleared his throat and addressed his companion, "Ser James Gordon wishes to speak with you Edward."

The man still did not turn from his seat, instead choosing to write more down on his parchment. "Ahh the head of the City Watch, how do you do Ser Gordon?"

"Would you mind telling me what exactly you plan to do in my city? And how you plan on catching Batman? As I recall even your lord failed to do so," James said with a small smirk across his lips.

"I assure you Ser, I am more than well-suited to see the task through than even Lord Tywin. I have always had a knack for solving difficult problems that others found troubling. Allow me to show you. _Listen closely for I am hard to understand, I am elusive as a handful of sand. Even if you perceive me you know me not, before you can tell me what I have forgot._ What am I?"

James' brow scrunched, trying to make sense of the nonsense the stranger had just told him. _Elusive as sand, hard to understand, what I have forgot…damn it all, and this man._

After a few moments of silence the man stood from his seat, and turned to face James. He wore a white tunic with purple lining and threading underneath his jacket. He had a slender face, and eyes as bright a shade of green as jade in the sunlight. An arrogant smile graced his lips, and one of his orange eye brows was cocked in prideful waiting. He held out a hand, and James stretched his out in turn to give a shake.

"My name is Edward Nigma. I am the man who will not only _catch_ Batman, but deduce who he _is_. And the answer to my question my fair Ser, is a _riddle_."

_**Selina**_: Chapter 14

"Selina you can't leave us! What will we do? We were lost while you were missing!" Tanya pleaded. It had been a hard decision to come to, but Selina knew she could not stay at the Lion's Den any longer. When she returned from her imprisonment, the whorehouse was in disarray. Three girls had left one night never to return, while a few thugs stormed in and made off with Ronda on another. A few girls even left for the other popular whorehouse, the _Dragon's Scale_ three nights before Selina returned.

With Holly gone, crime growing more uncontrollable by the day, and her recent stay in a cell, Selina had no desire to look after this place or its residents anymore. She just wanted to be by herself, care for her own needs, and only have to look out for herself. She liked the girls, even cared for some, but after watching Holly have her life ripped from her before Selina's eyes she had very little care to continue watching over the girls. She was tired of playing den mother.

"I know Tanya, but with Holly gone…I'm not in the right mind to keep watching over this cursed place and all of you sweet girls. I can pay the _Steaming Lake_ thirty gold pieces to take you in, but that is all I can do," Selina said looking down to the floor. She couldn't bring herself to meet their eyes, knowing they were full of tears and fright. She heard Tanya wail, a few girls even curse under their breaths. When the room had quieted down she continued, "I know you girls looked up to me for strength and direction, but I have none left. I am directionless myself, and I cannot have you girls clinging to me like a daughter clings to her mother's dress. I am sorry, truly, but I cannot help you anymore. Tomorrow I will make leave from this place. I can lead any girls that wish to the _Lake_ and will pay for your stay there."

Allison, one of the newest girls, spoke up, "but where will you go Selina?"

Selina lied, "I have permission to stay in an inn on the other side of the city. I will remain there until I find another, more permanent residence." In truth Selina had no semblance of a clue as to where she was leaving for, only that she had to leave. She could not bear to look at their faces, and silently turned and stepped up the stairs to her chambers. Once there, she closed the door and collapsed to cry into her hands. Her cats came over to where she sat sobbing and brushed up against her legs and sides. Isis hopped up into her lap while Meelo scaled her shins until he rested on the peaks of her bent knees. She looked up with puffy eyes from her palms to gaze into their bright little eyes.

"Alright sweetlings, I suppose the time for sobbing's done and the time for packing needs to start." She rose from the floor and went about the room beginning to pack all that she cared to bring with her. Some of her nicest dresses and necklaces that she had either bought or stolen, the brush that Holly had given her on her last name day, and her little sack of golden pieces hidden under a floorboard. _Now for my children…_

Selina turned to face the twenty cats that littered her bed and floor. She did not know how she would bring them all with her, but she was determined not to leave them behind. _This is my family, not the girls downstairs. _She placed Meelo and Isis on a shelf in her wardrobe as she took out her black leather Catwoman outfit and laid it at the bottom of her largest travel bag. The moment after she placed a few blouses over her thieving attire, a knock came at her door.

Selina heard Allison's muffled voice through the door, "Selina, there's a, uhh, man hear to see you." The last thing Selina had the desire to do right now was be in the presence of a man.

"Tell him I'm not in," she replied. She turned back to her wardrobe to grab more of her garments when she heard her door open. She looked back around angrily and stopped when she saw who her male visitor was. Ser James Gordon was certainly more cleanly and dutiful in his demeanor than most of the men that had called upon her in her years in this place. He wore the white tunic of the City Watch, and the badge of its leader on his breast. His hand reached up behind his head scratching at the base of his skull. Allison stood behind him with her hand over her mouth and worry in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Selina but he just…" Selina held up a hand to stop her apology. "It's alright, leave us, if you would."

Ser Gordon cleared his throat as the door closed behind him. "My apologies Lady Kyle, but I wouldn't blame the girl, she tried to stop me as best she could." He gave a small smile as he began looking around the room. "You've got…quite a few cats here Lady Kyle, must cost a lot to feed them every day."

"I have a special place in my heart for strays it seems, but we get by just fine. You may call me Selina, Lady Kyle makes me sound as if I were an old crone." _I'm only twenty, nowhere near old enough to be some Lord's trophy to keep up in his castle. _

"My apologies _Selina_, but I must confess that I am not here to discuss your cats or your age."

"Ser Gordon, I'm afraid my life as a whore on the streets is over. I can direct you downstairs to one of the other fine girls living here if you wish. It will surely be more warming to your bed than you have been accustomed to lately…"

Selina trailed off as she watched Gordon look to the floor with a small smile on his face. _There's a great deal of pain there…dammit Selina, you went too far._ The whole city knew of Gordon's wife fleeing, it had become rather tasty gossip for the city's wives to chitter on about in the streets. But Selina knew she had hit the man below the belt. "I-I'm sorry Ser I jus…"

Gordon raised a hand to quiet her. "It is alright Selina. No harm done. But I regret to inform you I am not here for someone to share my bed with. I know it was _him_."

Selina was confused, "Him..? Him who?"

Gordon smiled once more, "The man who saved you from your execution that day. You very well know who I am speaking of."

_Damn, I shouldn't have been so careless. Of course he's here to arrest me, probably has a few guards out front should I try to escape. If I can just duck out the window and climb to the roof I can…_

Gordon cut her chain of thinking off, "I'm not here to arrest you Selina. I have forgone your, crimes…because of what the Batman did. But now I need you to give him a message."

_What game is he playing…_ "I am sorry Ser, but I have never met this mysterious madman of the night. Nor would I know how to contact him if I did. How are you so sure I could deliver this message of yours?"

Gordon chuckled and turned around to look upon the room once more. His eyes caught on an item Selina had stupidly left lying out in the open on her bedside table. "That is a nice whip there, but what a strange place for it. You wouldn't happen to know why a whip would just be sitting on your table, as if it were a hairbrush, would you Selina?"

_His sigil isn't a pointing hunting hound for nothing…_ "It was my father's Ser. The only thing I have left of him I'm afraid."

"Ah of course, my apologies then. Just, if you should in some unforeseen event, speak with Batman. Tell him I need to talk to him, but privately. Tell him to meet me on my grounds like the last time. I have something of great urgency to tell him."

Selina thought a moment before responding, "If I should somehow come across Batman, I will tell him your little message."

Gordon continued smiling, "thank you my la-Selina. Do have a good rest of your day. Oh by the way, I have heard some rumours that the old bakery near my western keep room just became vacant. Poor fellow left, couldn't stomach all of the death."

Selina's lips grew taught in a thin line. "Not many can Ser, but you have my thanks."

Ser Gordon gave one last smile before quietly leaving her chambers without another word. Selina went to the window to watch him walk down the street. _He cannot know who I am. He saw but a whip and my cats, no proof…and he knows that Batman and I have a connection…what kind of connection that is even I do not know._ She watched the orange haired man stroll down the street with his ten guards falling in line behind him. He looked like a small fire trying its hardest to illuminate the dark stones of the walls and street with rays of hope.

_**Richard**_: Chapter 12

_Now I have him._ Dick crept quietly through the shadows of the cave, straining to not make a sound. It was near midnight now, so the cave was shrouded in darkness, save for the torches posted along the northern half of the cave. Bruce was bent over a table studying some pieces of parchment intently, oblivious to Dick's movements. Dick had practiced and trained intensely for the last three weeks. Bruce had begun teaching him how to fight, speak other dialects, and creep through the night as if he was not there in the first place.

Dick found the other languages dull to learn, he had little care to learn how Dothraki or the people of Pentos spoke. It was all of the actual, physical learnings that Dick craved. How to fight ten men at once, how to evade and dodge arrows like a ghost, how to throw a knife and hit the target every time, and how to move like a shadow, these were the lessons he wanted to know. Dick had never been one for burying his nose in an old book or tome for hours on end. He was one for flying through the night with a grace and fluidity that even the rain would envy.

Dick was only ten paces from where Bruce stood. _Sole of your heel down first, then gently the outer curve of the foot, and then finally lay it down flat,_ he recounted to himself as his feet slowly and carefully followed suit. When he was only five paces from the hunched over man, Dick drew a bat-shaped throwing knife from his belt and raised it up to eye level. The moment Dick was about to spring forward, Bruce spoke. "If you are going to try and surprise me without being heard, I would suggest not stomping through the cave like a mammoth," he said calmly without looking up from his papers.

Dick vaulted up onto the table and stood over Bruce and his papers. "How did you hear me coming?"

Bruce continued looking at his parchment, "For one, I'm not deaf. Secondly, I'm sure even Alfred heard you up in the castle."

At that moment, the Dornishman's familiar voice chimed in amongst the silent darkness of the cave. "What did I hear Ser?"

Dick looked around the cave quickly in disbelief, "Alfie where did you come from?"

Alfred remained straight faced, "Has Master Bruce been training myself or you these last three weeks Master Richard?" Bruce cracked a small smile at that comment. Alfred laid a silver tray with two glasses of water and two plates of roasted chicken and corn down on the large, dark-stained oak desk. The smell instantly made Dick's mouth water; he had forgotten he had barely attempted eating these last few days unless Bruce had ordered him. He grabbed the earl of corn and hungrily began feeding his starving stomach.

After a few large bites Dick muttered out with food in his mouth, "What are you reading Bruce?"

Bruce looked up from his parchment, "Shipping manifests, for Gotham's port."

"Why?" Dick asked. Bruce looked to Alfred for a moment, the old servant nodded and Bruce hesitantly continued.

"If you're going to be my partner I suppose I should let you in on everything. Last week the Joker attacked a ship in the port, raided its cargo and killed the crew. He made off with at least eight crates of weaponry."

"So? He stole most of Lord Tywin's swords too. Why would he need a few more?" Dick asked. He knew Joker was building a following, and followers clearly needed swords, but Bruce seemed troubled even further.

"The captain was in the city with a few of his men at the time of Joker's attack. He reported another missing crate but could not say what was in it, for even he did not know. Whatever it is, if the Joker has it, it spells dangerous for all of Gotham," Bruce replied looking up from the desk to meet Dick's eyes.

"Alright…but what could be carried in a single crate that would be so dangerous? It's not like they can store a hundred jars of wildfire or a thousand crossbows in a box?"

"This is true, but the point still stands, whatever was in that crate unless it was full of puppies and infants bodes ill for us all. The sooner we find what dark corner he skulked into to hide, the better."

Nightwing glided down from the peak of a nearby spire-shaped rock to Dick's shoulder. His talons no longer dug into Dick's shoulder with the small, green spaulders he wore. Lucius had fastened them along with green leather gloves and boots that reached halfway up his shins. Dick had asked that they be green despite Bruce's argument against it. He said that with a red and green costume Dick would sorely stick out amongst the cover the night provided. He said it would make Dick more of a target for archers and crossbowmen. Dick refused to dress himself in dark tinted dressings with black surrounding him. Bruce was a symbol of fear, and Dick would be a symbol of hope. He wanted the bright colors, so that people would not fear him as they did Batman.

_Bruce uses his inner darkness and surrounds himself in it, well I will use my inner light and don that as my armor. _Bruce argued against it often the first week Dick wore the red leather attire Lucius had made for him, but the boy never gave in. The flattened metal disc on Dick's breast was still blank, smooth as a river stone. Bruce had his bat symbol across his chest, but Dick did not know what to take as his symbol. He had no mask or façade to give the city like Bruce did with his performance as a cripple, so he could not simply drape a robin from shoulder to shoulder.

_But what to use? I cannot just run around with a blank emblem on my chest. _Dick had thought the matter over a great deal since his training had begun.

Lucius was hard at work in the northern most corner of the cave, sewing a pale yellow cape together for Dick's suit. _Is it even a suit? Bruce truly has a suit of armor, but my attire is but a red leather vest with green spaulders, boots, and gloves with a yellow cape to pin to it. _

Dick was pulled from his frustrating thoughts as Bruce spoke up once more. "Dick, it's time to begin training again. One last hour before bed."

Dick jumped down from the desk and rolled as his feet his the stone floor. "What are we doing? Knife throwing? Dodging, countering, disappearing?" Dick questioned excitedly.

Bruce walked over to where Lucius stood at his work quarters, sewing and cutting away quickly but with a great amount of attention in every stroke of his hand. His work table was riddled with pieces of metal and leather and cloth, half forged armorings and bat-shaped throwing knives spotted throughout the clutter. He quietly whispered something to the dark skinned man who smiled and ducked beneath his table. A moment later he reappeared with a crate in hand no longer than Dick's arm. Bruce thanked him and walked back over to where Alfred and Dick stood waiting.

"My weapons are my hands, the blades on my gauntlets, my feet, all of the oddities and tools in my belt, but you need one of your own," he said as he laid the crate out on the desk.

Despite him being able to see the crate plainly as he was, Dick stood on his tiptoes in excitement to get a better view. The mysterious nature of the crate and its contents made Dick anxious with anticipation. "What is it? A sword? A dagger? Oh is it a mace?! I could hurt criminals left and right with a weapon as daunting as a mace!"

Bruce opened the box and held up its contents into the torchlight. They were two plain, steel poles no wider than a candle and only slightly longer than Dick's forearm. "Those? I'm to fight criminals with two sticks?"

Bruce smirked and began whirling them in his hands as he attacked imaginary foes with quick thrusts and swings. They moved so quick that in the torch light they appeared as nothing more than quick flashes of silver light. Dick stood in awe as Bruce swung and turned and spun, the poles dancing in his hands. When Bruce finally stopped, Dick stood with his mouth aghast.

Bruce looked at the boy and smiled, "You are correct, you are going to fight criminals with sticks. It is a form of fighting I learned in my travels from some islanders of the Jade Sea. It is called Escrima, and is quick, efficient, and requires focus. These are your escrima sticks, and from today on they will be extensions of your arms."

He handed them to Dick, who took a few moments to get used to the feeling of round, solid steel in his hands. They felt cool to the touch, but made Dick feel…stronger in some way. He tried swirling one in his hand as Bruce had done, but dropped it almost immediately. A loud _clang_ echoed throughout the cave. Nightwing screeched at the unexpected noise.

"It will take time Dick, but eventually you will be able to do what I showed and more. Shall we begin?"

Dick lowered his stance, held the two metal poles tightly, and spread his feet, "Come at me old man."


	31. Bruce 17: James 14: Alfred 14

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 17

She came in through the window, a purse of coins in one hand and her whip in the other. Bruce couldn't help but admire how quickly and lightly she moved on her feet. The fact that her boots had three inch heels made the feat even more impressive. _No, she's a criminal, I have a mission, nothing can become of it._

It took her a few moments to realize she wasn't alone. She turned to the corner where Bruce stood quietly, "Dropped by to check in on me? Or are you planning on pricking me with that needle again and gifting me with a few hours of sleep?"

_I deserve that_. "No, you are safe from unconsciousness, although I had hoped you would wait at least a few more weeks before returning to your life of crime."

She smirked, "and how else is a former whore supposed to earn a living if she can't fuck her way through gold anymore?"

Bruce had no response to that. Street whores were rarely even literate, let alone smart enough to outwit nobles and thieve from them. "I have heard baking is a fine way to earn an honest living."

Selina laughed, "The man covering his face and hiding his identity wishes to lecture _me_ about an honest life? Tell me what it is you do day in and day out when you aren't donning that pointed eared helmet? Or do you sleep in that as well._ Ha_, I suppose you wouldn't tell me regardless."

She removed her mask, letting her brown hair fall to her shoulders before shaking her head to untangle it. Her eyes reflected the moonlight beautifully, almost as if they were truly did belong to a cat, and not a woman. Bruce stopped himself from his gazing and looked around the room. Selina took notice and smirked mockingly.

"I hide who I am to protect those I care about, not to evade punishment for crimes so I can feel free to commit as many as I wish," he stated.

"You have my thanks for saving me from Lord Tywin, but that doesn't give you the right nor do I care to listen to you try and lecture me. If that is all you came to do, the window's right there. I trust you can find your way out with the ease you found your way in." She turned her back to him and grabbed some small bits of chicken and tossed it in a few bowls scattered around the floor. Her cats flooded to the little tin bowls and hungrily began feeding.

Bruce looked to the floor. "The city is still dangerous even with Lord Tywin gone. Joker is still out there somewhere, and I need to find him. I came to ask that should you hear anything from any of your sellers for your stolen items, let me know."

Selina turned back around, her jacket was unbuttoned, her breasts and skin exposed. Bruce quickly looked to the ceiling to avoid staring at the unexpected sight. "_Ha_, fearless in the face of murderous thugs and mad clowns but shy as a boy before a nude woman. You are a strange man, and as to your request, I have no way to contact you."

Bruce reached behind him to his belt and unhooked the small bundle. He held it out for her, not looking as she did. She unfolded it, looking at the yellow cloth with black detailed trim. "A _flag_?"

"Hang it outside your window should you learn anything, I will come back here to check as often as I can." _She won't want to, but she'll say yes._

"And why would I say yes to this? I find it hard to see a way that this benefits me," she replied as she stripped herself of her leather leggings and boots. She was fully naked now, Bruce could see the pale white of her skin in the moonlight in his peripherals.

"Because as much as you want to only look out for yourself…you do want to help somehow, and this is your way how. You have connections that I don't, and I have great want of them. If you would like, I can pay you for your services." _Now to see if she'll take the bait…_

"So instead of any old noble's whore, now I'll be just yours? I think I'm beginning to see your grand plan unfold, ser." _Or not…_ Bruce was weary that she would take it this way, he probably should have counted on it in hindsight. _She's too smart for her own good to be sure._

"No, it is for information, not whoring. I am well aware you gave that life up."

Selina slipped a nightdress over her bare skin and stepped directly in front of Bruce. She traced two fingers up his stomach, over his chest plate and stopped directly in the center of the bat symbol across his chest. "It must get lonely in your bed at night, wishing someone was there to warm it for you. Or do you hang from the roof of a cave with your cape wrapped around you as if it were wings?"

Bruce said nothing, only kept staring forward into her eyes. She continued, "Your armor feels cold. Does it reflect the man underneath I wonder? Are you cold underneath all of this metal and leather? Or is there nothing left under this armor, is the reason the man is cold is because he is dead to the world?"

Bruce turned from her and took a few paces to the window. He turned his head to speak over his shoulder, "It does not matter, do you accept my offer?"

She remained quiet for a minute, before finally responding, "I will do it. Ser Gordon paid me a visit and said he needs to speak with you as well…it sounded urgent…" Her voice trailed off and grew quiet. _I've hurt her, but there's nothing I can do. Perhaps in another life something could have grown between us, but now my only goal is to protect this city…not find a woman to spend my life with. _

"I will find him, thank you Selina," he brought his leg up and rested a boot on the window before diving out into the night. Selina was left standing there hugging herself, surrounded by her cats and silk night dress. Whether she watched Bruce as he ran along the rooftops or not, Bruce did not know, but some small, hidden part of him wished she did.

_**James**_: Chapter 14

He stood out looking across the bay once more, as he had every night for a few hours since speaking with Selina Kyle five days ago. _Maybe she's not better able at reaching him than I am…_ After sitting in a wooden chair for near three hours, James stood up and turned to go back into his home. Batman stood between him and the doorway.

"So you did get my message, I'm glad lady Kyle can be trusted with that much. I saw a whip in her chambers, I cannot be certain but I have heard this Catwoman character runs around with such an item," James said trying to start a conversation after a few moments of silence.

"I'm not here to discuss Selina Kyle, I'm here because you said you needed to speak with me urgently." _Something has him rigid…Joker most likely._

"You recall the chests filled with Joker's so-called poison gas, yes? Well my men loaded them up onto a ship the next day and sailed off. I instructed them to sail out however far they could get in a week, dump the chests, and sail back. Well, when they returned a fortnight ago, I received some distressing news. One of my men fumbled, and let go of one of his ends of a chest. The man on the other end tried to keep it balanced but failed, and the chest fell to the ship deck and blew open. There were no glass vials or pots or even poisonous gas. When the chest hit the deck, severed heads rolled out, an eerie smile on each and every one of them."

Batman looked to the ground in confusion, he had clearly not been expecting that news. "You checked the other chests and found the same result I assume. Do you have any idea of the owners of the heads?"

_Cheerful as always. _"We know some, not others. There were thirty heads in total, eight belonged to men of mine. Others we assume were Lord Tywin's men, one however was more rotten than the others. That one, belonged to Devan Falcone, Carmine Falcone's nephew. Since Falcone has no sons, he cared for Devan as if he were his own. It seems Joker wishes to send a message to every organization in Gotham whether on the right side of the law or wrong that he is here to stay."

_May the Seven help us_, James silently prayed to himself. James grew increasingly worried with each passing day. First Lord Tywin stormed in with a small army at his back to take control of the city, then Joker kills his army and sends him running with his tail between his legs. Now Joker kills the largest crime leader's nephew and Tywin sends two questionable men to carry on his work in his absence. _This will be the hardest part to tell him…_

Before James could continue Batman spoke, "Joker is trying to rattle Falcone's cage to provoke him out of hiding. Falcone is Joker's main target, not your men or the city folk or even me. With Falcone still standing, Joker will always have to struggle for control of the city's crime. With Falcone dead he can set himself atop the throne and rule over the smugglers, rapers, killers and others unquestioned. Tell me about the men Lord Tywin sent last week."

_So he does know,_ "Just a few dozen armed men, nothing in comparison to the force Lord Tywin arrived with. There were two distinct ones among the crowd if those are the ones in which you're inquiring about. Hugo Strange was the first I met. He seems smart and calm enough, he brought some of Lord Tywin's _demands_, as they should be called. Hugo is to hold up in Arkham Castle, turn it into a special kind of jail. One for the more…unhinged criminals of the city."

Batman cut him off, "And Joker and I are to be the first prisoners, am I correct?"

James rubbed his chin, feeling the small, sharp tips of hair brush against his finger tips from having not shaved in a few days. He sighed, "Yes, our Lord of Lannister has declared that you aided the Joker in trying to kill him, and succeeding in killing his men. He demands you arrested for your crimes and that my men pursue you in full or else the entire strength of Lannister's throne will come crashing down on our city. I-"

Batman interrupted once more, "Do it."

James was taken aback, his jaw dropped and he stared at Batman with a shocked expression chiseled into his face. "But you did nothing wrong. You _saved _us!"

"And I will continue to do so, but I cannot let Lannister destroy this city. You know this is our only option. We are in this together, even if I must be on the other side of the law."

James shoulders dropped, his eyes looking to the ground in anguish. He had felt such a victor when he watched Lord Tywin ride off from his city, but even from Casterly Rock the old lord could still control this city with an iron grip. It made feel James feel even smaller of a man for thinking he had won.

"They'll hunt you," was all James could reply with.

Batman stepped closer, "You'll hunt me. You'll condemn me, set the dogs on me, because that is what needs to happen."

He was no more than four paces from James now. "But why? You are innocent! You are the one helping this city! That is the truth of it, not these shit coated words Lord Tywin deems fit to cast out!"

"Sometimes the truth isn't good enough, sometimes, people deserve more. Sometimes, people deserve to have their faith rewarded."

James stared into the masked stranger's daunting eyes, "This isn't our faith being rewarded, its punishment for trying to hold on _to_ it. To hope that our city isn't lost to crime and corruption, and now Lord Tywin tries to take that hope from us by stomping out criminals' reign only to force his own on us."

Batman took another step closer, James felt like a child in his presence. "Hope is not gone, we have beaten Tywin once, we can do it again. The city will be free of Tywin's grip and Falcone's," Batman stated with a level of certainty James wished he had.

Batman turned to leave, but James spoke up to stop him. "And if the city isn't? If you or I fail?"

Batman turned back to face James. "If I fail, I will be dead."

James stood silently for a moment before remembering he had one last thing to tell him. "There was another man. His name was Edward Nigma. Curious man, he has an affinity for puzzles. Says he's going to be the one to bring you down, and figure out who you truly are."

Batman did not turn back this time, only saying, "He is welcome to try."

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 14

"_Ugh,_ Robert Baratheon, brothers Stannis and Renly, married to Cersei Lannister, children Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella. Alfie, can we just move on to sparring yet? I have yet to see why I must even study these boring families. On the road I could have cared less who sat on that throne in King's Landing. It could have been a eunuch for all I cared!"

_Be wary of eunuchs Master Richard, sometimes it is those with nothing between their legs that are most dangerous._ Alfred had heard stories of examples of such dangerous beings, chiefly Lord Varys and Cersei Lannister. _Neither may have cocks but both have more claws tangled throughout King's Landing than the king himself. _

"It is important to know those in power in Westoros. With how Master Bruce and the Joker overwhelmingly upset Lord Tywin, very soon we could have an army of stags or lions at our gate," Alfred chose to reply with.

Dick sighed once more, "Which is precisely why I need to know how to _fight_. I cannot defeat them by telling them their family lineage until their ears fall from their skulls. I need to master fighting, dodging, countering!"

The boy jumped up onto the desk in a swift summersault, swiping his escrima sticks as he flipped. He raised them up and settled his body into a fighting stance, "Prepare yourself for defeat Alfie!"

Alfred smirked and took up the metal staff to his left. "Very well Master Richard, but if I come out the victor we will continue our studies without complaint."

Dick laughed, "_Ha!_ And if I win?"

"If you win Master Richard, then the world would have come to an end and you will be its harbinger."

Dick leapt forward and slid between Alfred's legs. Alfred turned to face him slowly as to give the boy a slight advantage. Dick pulled his right arm back and began his attack. _Right swing, left, left, right, cross-chop, step to the right, upper cut,_ Alfred thought to himself a moment before the boy followed suit. Alfred had grown very well practiced in predicting an attacker's movements by the subtle flinches and tremors given away a fraction of a second before they moved. A skill the young master would need to learn no doubt.

Alfred could have easily stopped the boy mid-jump before he even had begun to fight, but he thought the boy would benefit from practice more so than a quick defeat. As Dick rolled to the side and quickly continued his onslaught Alfred could only marvel at how quickly the boy had learned. _Only a month and the boy is already a capable fighter._

The boy was still greatly wanting in knowledge. He knew little of poisons, metals, cultures, languages, politics, how criminals or nobles thought and behaved, but he was skilled in his movement. He flipped and rolled with such great agility that his fighting style was unlike anything Alfred had ever seen. Most soldiers and knights were so heavy with armor that they could barely turn, let alone run. Dick could hit with one stick and before one could blink would be swinging from the opposite side.

After a few minutes of defending, Alfred went on the offensive. He parried one of Dick's downward swings with an upward slash of his staff. He brought it down horizontally on the boy's left side, who managed to duck just in time. Before Dick could counter-attack, Alfred brought the end of the staff back and pulled the boy's legs out from under him. Dick fell to the ground accompanied by two loud _twangs_ as his sticks hit the stone floor of the cave.

Dick propped himself up on an elbow with a smile, "Where were we? Eddard Stark?"

Lucius' loud, raucous laughter erupted from his corner of the cave where he stood at his smith's table. "When you get back to your feet lad come over here. I have somethin' needs attention," he called out.

Dick jumped to his feet and sprinted over to where the Summer Islander stood waiting. "Alright sonny, your dressings are finished. Ready to see what you'll be wearing in your nightly escapades?"

Dick grinned and nodded anxiously. The smith smiled and pulled out his latest creation. Alfred had already seen most of the pieces separately, but seeing them together made him glow in awe. The red leather vest with green spaulders, boots, leggings, and gloves, completed with the yellow cape clinging to the shoulders. Alfred walked over to where they both stood. Dick stripped of his practice breeches and tunic, and took the leather dressings from Lucius' hands with a rather careful amount of haste.

The boy dressed as quickly as his hands and fingers could move, until he was fully clad in the vibrant leather outfit. _He wears his brightly colored heart on his clothes, while Bruce wears his darkness on his._ Alfred remembered the night a week past when he had asked the boy why he so adamantly refused Bruce's recommendation to wear black and gray to better lay hidden in the night. Dick smiled as he looked into the fire burning in the hearth. "Because I don't want to be Bruce, I don't want to be Batman. Well I do, but not as dark of heart. So I will wear red, green and yellow to remind myself that I am everything that Batman stands for, but I am my own person. I am not a dark person, I want to spread hope, not fear."

Alfred remembered thinking at the time, _a lesson young Master Bruce had dire need of in his youth._ Dick was strong, not in the same fashion as Bruce had been, but strong all the same. _The boys are so different, yet so alike they could be brothers._

Seeing the boy stand there fully clothed in his outfit warmed Alfred's heart. He feared for the boy's life, but he trusted Bruce to not let any mortal harm come to the boy. _He will bruise, he will bleed, but he will do more than Bruce has done. He will do more than survive, he will live._

Dick stared at his reflection in the pool of water at the edge of the stone island. He reached a hand back to grab the cape and held it up to his side to better admire it. It was not as long as Bruce's, only reaching to behind his knees as opposed to Batman's which encompassed even the floor around him. Lucius chose this opportune time to speak, "You still need to choose a symbol for me to carve into that blank emblem on your chest."

Dick turned around to face the two older men. "I haven't decided yet, I don't know what to use as my symbol. I cannot run around with a spread robin across my chest as Bruce does a bat. I don't even have a helmet to hide my face with. _Ha_, some hero I shall make."

Alfred walked over to the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, you most likely couldn't strap the outline of a robin to your chest, but that does not mean you need forget who you are or where you came from. Nor that you cannot carry your parents' spirits with you across the night. A robin you are, and a robin you shall be. Aegon had Balerion, Lord Stark has his Ice, and Batman shall from this moment on have, Robin."

Dick looked up to Alfred perplexedly, before his face lit up with excitement as he understood Alfred's meaning. "Alfie that is brilliant! I shall bear the spirits of my parents in my _title_! But that does not remedy my blank emblem."

Dick traced two fingers along the smooth, vacant surface of the metal disc sewn into the breast of his leather suit. Alfred raised a finger to his lip in contemplation, "Hmmm, well Master Richard you need not be as blunt as Master Bruce and the bat across his chest. I believe the letter "_R_" would suffice. It would remind your enemies that like your symbol, there is more to you that goes unseen by the eye."

Dick grinned, "Yes! Lucius, I desire an _R_ as my symbol! In pale gold surrounded by black, the colors of House Wayne."

Alfred was surprised by the latter part of the request. "Why black and gold Master Richard? Should it not be red on black as are your family's colors?"

Dick stripped off the leather garment and returned it to Lucius' hands. "Because, while the title pays honor to my family and parents' spirits, this place is my home now. I live under the roof of Wayne Castle, so the coloration gives honor to them. My parents' spirits are not the only ones that watch over me now, now the spirits of Bruce's parents and those before them do as well."

_Wise words Master Richard, wise words indeed._


	32. James 15: Joker 6: Selina 15

_**James**_: Chapter 15

"So what have you been busying yourself with since your arrival to my city, Nigma?"

Edward smiled, "Well Ser Gordon, I had not expected you to keep such a readied interest in my comings and goings. I must admit I have no lie prepared so I must forfeit the truth. I have been in the Narrows uncovering what I can of your Batman, as I promised to do."

They were sitting in Edward's makeshift chambers on the first floor of James' main guard keep. Ever since Ser Borsan had been discovered to be the Joker, James did not let any visitors stay on the same floor as him. Even Sarah stayed on the second floor, granted she was directly below James' chambers. She had proven to be a very useful ally despite being an agent for Lord Tyrell. James would sometimes lay awake at night thinking fondly of her. Her wavy blonde hair, her slender cheekbones, how she could march into a room full of men and take charge in an instant, her flashing sapphire eyes, James had grown to appreciate them all. _No, I remain a married man, and I must honor my duties as a husband._

James remembered the words of House Gordon, _Duty Above Honor._ If a man had to uphold his duty even by forgoing his honor, than it was his responsibility to do so. James had learned early on the difference between honoring one's duty and making honor one's only duty was as great as the Wall was long. Even with Barbara abandoning them, he was still married to her and would remain faithful. _Men following their honor over their lawful duties makes them prideful and foolish, it is how men like the Kingslayer gain power in this world._

James turned his thoughts from Sarah back to the orange-haired man sitting before him with the smuggest of expressions upon his face. "Something troubling you Ser?," he taunted.

"No Edward, now tell me, did you uncover anything in your time spent among our thieves, rapers, and killers?"

He smirked, "Yes and no. I learned a great deal about the city and some of its nobles and figure heads but little of Batman. Some fools still believe him to be a myth. Did you know Lord Wayne has been paying off whores twice a month to share his bed?"

James raised an eyebrow, "I don't believe he is the first to bed a whore nor will he be the last. If I am not mistaken Tyrion Lannister has a particular attraction for them, but I'm sure a man as intelligent as yourself would have known that."

Edward looked unamused, "Yes I did. But returning to my statement, your respectable lord does not actually _bed_ the whores. That servant of his merely pays them their gold, and they say they slept with him."

"I see, perhaps whatever gave him that limp and cane also injured his manhood? So he pays them off to not feel as inferior of a man," James suggested.

Edward chuckled, "Ohh Ser Gordon, perhaps, perhaps. I however think it is a man hiding something. If he wanted to feel like more of a man he could at least bring the whore to bed and play with a tit. No, I think it is something…else."

James knew what the man was hinting at. "You believe Batman to be Lord Wayne?"

"I said no such thing, just that I believe your lord to be hiding something. Only time will tell I suppose."

_You should have kept your mouth closed Edward, a man with more sense and brains would have. Your arrogance and need to prove your mind's strength will be your undoing._

James rose from his seat beside Edward's desk, "I shall leave you to it then."

"Have a pleasant day, Ser Gordon," he chimed as James left his unkempt quarters. Books and dusty old tomes alike littered Edward's desk and floor. Scrolls of parchment blanketed his desk making the wood barely visible. It looked as if he had been here for months when in truth it had been just over a week.

James hurried up the stairs to the second floor. Guards either nodded or saluted with a fist over their chest as he passed. He rounded the corner and proceeded into Sarah's chambers. Her cot was pulled up into the farthest corner near the window, while she sat sharpening her dagger with a whetstone at her desk. She looked up to see him enter and smiled that same heart-warming, sinister smile she had given them the first day they met.

"Ser Gordon, and what gives me the pleasure of your company today?"

James closed the door gently, and turned back to face her, a look of cautious anticipation visible on her face. "I need to know that I can trust you."

She squinted an eye in confusion, "What do you mean, Ser?"

"I need to know that what I am about to tell you will remain between just us. Not my men, not Highgarden and Lord Martell. _Only us_," he replied sternly.

She was clearly taken aback by his sudden seriousness, "I swear on the Seven."

He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose to calm his mind and steady his nerves. "Nigma believes Lord Wayne to be Batman. Says he's spoken with some whores that Lord Wayne's paid off to say they've laid to bed with him when they truly haven't."

She looked to the ground to ponder a moment, "What do you believe?"

"I'm not sure. Lord Wayne is crippled and appears to be rather inept, but I've seen men deceive others with their true nature before. He does have the motive to bear the task with his parents' deaths, he is rarely seen, no soul's been within the castle since his return…I don't know," he told her. It was the truth, despite speaking with Batman several times since he first appeared, James still was unsure of who he truly was. He constantly struggled with the idea of Batman being Lord Wayne, but no other ideas had the same level of merit or support.

Sarah smirked. "Well there is only one way to find out, and that also happens to be our way to beating our dear Edward to the race's end."

James looked at her quizzically. She sheathed her knife and laid it on the desk with a girlish giggle. "James are you the leader here or am I? On the morrow we will go speak with Lord Wayne himself. That should give us whatever answers we are wanting of."

_**Joker**_: Chapter 6

Joker's footsteps echoed like crashing waves as he walked down the dark, quiet street. He ran his fingers through his hair pushing it back as he went about his late night stroll. He was in the upper end of the wealthier region of Gotham, near some tavern called the_ Iceberg Lounge_. It was a prosperous, extravagant little spot on the top of the hill where the wealthy nobles of Gotham could bring their whores to bed so that their wives remained unaware of their late night outings.

Joker began to whistle as he neared his destination, killing always put him in a good mood. He walked alone, as he usually preferred to do. He was an odd sight for most, a man with a white face, green hair, and purple dressings, but he always was one for attention. He gazed around to take in his surroundings. The streets were much better lit than the Narrows, with torches every twenty feet or so. Many of the steads he passed were constructed of a finer quality of stone than the shit holes called homes in the Narrows too. Those stones were cracked and rough while these were perfectly smooth and finely laid. In the distance the small castles of the Drakes, Hadys and Starrs rose to meet the sky. They were no Red Keep or Wayne Castle even, but they had walls and small turrets so they looked the part at the very least.

_How fun it will be to tear those down when the city is mine._ Joker giggled and took a drink from the bottle of wine in his hand. A fine Dornish red, Joker usually cared little for what he drank but thirsting on something red became an odd pleasure for him. Joker was close to the _Lounge_ now, he could see the metal sign draped over the entrance to the surprisingly large structure. It towered over the surrounding steads by twice their height, and had a glass, domed roof that rose into a spired point piercing the sky. It was built of pale white marble with dark iron surrounding the glass of the beautiful windows and roof.

_If that is a tavern, then I'm perfectly sane. _Joker was but fifty paces from the entrance now, and had a good view of the gateway. A dozen armed and armored men stood watch over the large iron doors into the _Lounge_. Thick marble columns rose up too reinforce the overhanging arched entranceway. As Joker grew closer, he saw the iron doors pull open. A ring of armed sellswords stepped through but it was not them he was concerned with, it was who stood in the middle. He was barely visible, but Joker knew he was there.

Joker heard him squawk out an order in his irritatingly shrill voice, "Get my carriage ere' on the double or I'll ave' every last one of your heads on a plate!"

_Perfect._ Joker was twenty paces from the group now, and called out, "_Cobblepot _you old dog, is that truly you?"

The short, fat man leaned out from behind two of his sellsword company. He had a pudgy face, with a pointed, narrow beak of a nose. He was clearly balding as his scalp reflected the pale moonlight and his mouth was drawn out in a flat frown. He wore a black doublet with white inlaid trim and carried a wound up umbrella in his hand which he used as a cane. Umbrellas were expensive and luxurious commodities that only those that had the gold to spare would pay for such things. They were a creation out of the Far East, and used mostly to block the sun for the dwellers along the coast of the Jade Sea.

"Wah? Who the bloody hell are you?," the stout man called out to the stranger he could barely see in the dark of night.

Joker chuckled, "Oh come now Oswald. Surely you've heard of me, for I have certainly heard of you, _Hehehe_."

Joker was close enough now that the torchlight reflected his pale white complexion and pure green hair. The moment he saw who the stranger in the night was, Oswald Cobblepot's face grew even whiter than Joker's. The sight made Joker laugh hysterically.

"_Men, gimme' that clown's head on a pike and you'll be rewarded with a damn castle!_" he called out from behind the safety of his armed escort. The sellswords drew their swords in unison, but all were unable to mask their fear.

Joker laughed again, "If any of you sers would like to walk away from this night with your life, I would recommend you drop your swords and run. _Now._"

Two men dropped their swords and ran off for safety. _Smart lads._ The rest however, slowly pressed forward. "My turn. _Boys!"_

Arrows flew down from the roofs of the two steads on either side of Joker. He had ordered twenty of his men to hide their in waiting for Joker's call. The other thirty Joker had brought came out from their hiding spots in the side alley to Joker's right. Mol and Kol stood to each side of Joker, making them look like towering turrets surrounding him. Pilo and Ajax stood to their sides, both wielding crossbows. Two more of the sellswords ran off after laying eyes on Joker's haunting force.

Every one of his men had their faces painted white like his. Either black or red paint added designs of stripes, circles, or just random patterns to the blank white tapestries that were their faces. _Ahh such beautiful masterpieces, each and every one of them, but none best the original Hahahaha!_

Joker smiled as his victory was assured. "Boys, kill em'."

His men charged forth and quickly and brutally ended the sellswords' stand. Joker strolled through the bloody carnage whistling before taking another swig of wine. Pilo was busy ripping his crossbow bolt from a man's eye socket while Aces stood behind him attempting to remove his sword from a man's chest, both struggling. Mol was grinding the sole of his boot against the stone street to try and remove one of the sellsword's bits of skull and brain from it.

"Now my fine, feathered friend, let us have a civil discussion I pray you _hehe_," Joker pleaded as he neared the spot where Oswald stood, pissing himself no doubt. The guards of the _Lounge _had withdrawn behind the doors, wanting to avoid the skirmish in the streets as that was not what they were paid for. Joker was not trying to break in, only have a meeting with the rich little noble.

"W-what do you want from me?," the frightened fat man stuttered. Joker took note of the black and white bird on the fat weakling's chest. A penguin, a creature only those as north as the Wall had ever seen. _Fat, waddles, and defenseless, just as I like my lords._

"Tsk Tsk, Oswald I know full well of your dealings in the black market. Your Falcone's chief arms dealer, you get him his swords and he gives you a fat sack of coins. From this night on, you're done selling to that old codger. Now you sell with _me_," Joker chided.

"H-how mad are you? Falcone's got hav' the city bought and paid for. He's got at leas' nine 'undred thugs in 'is pay. You don't stand a chance clown," he replied as he raised his umbrella. He pulled back the handle to reveal that it was truly a hilt to a thin blade that was hidden inside the umbrella's length. He jabbed it forward aiming of Joker's gut, but his target easily dodged, laughing all the way. Before Oswald could bring the sword back for a horizontal slash Joker had kicked him back onto his fat ass and had a foot rested on the noble's groin. Joker pressed more weight down on his foot making the balding man groan in pain.

"Now, now, that was uncalled for Cobblepot. Now the cordial Joker is gone, and you have to deal with unpleasant Joker, _hehehe_. Boys, hold him down."

Oswald screamed as Pilo grabbed the remains of the hair on the sides of his scalp and yanked his head back. Ajax and Aces each grabbed a stumpy arm and pinned him to the ground.

Joker sheathed his knife and broke the glass bottle of wine on the stone street. He sifted his fingers through the broken glass shards until they rested on the broken bottom. It was still perfectly rounded and intact on the smooth bottom's surface, but the sides were now splintered fissures of sharp-edged glass. A devilish smile grew on Joker's lips as he approached the pinned down noble.

"What's the matter Cobblepot? Growing tired of waiting for your precious father to die of old age so you decided to start your own inheritance reserve? Now swear to me you are done selling to Falcone," Joker growled while maintaining his smile.

"A-alrigh' , alrigh', I swear no more. I-I'll even give you a reduced fee. How's that sound?," the quivering lord pleaded.

"Hmmm very good it does, but I have to maintain my appearances and authority in front of my boys here and you did refuse me at the start. I can't let that go without repercussions, I'm sure you understand. Lads, I have a joke for you. How do you keep a bird without wings from flying anywhere?"

Oswald cried out in panic and writhed as Ajax looked up and replied. "Uhh, you kill it?"

"_Hahehe!_ No my boy, but worthy guess. No, you cut out an eye, so it flies in circles! _HAHAHAHA!_" Joker laughed maliciously as he jammed the broken bottle bottom into Oswald's right eye socket. Blood erupted from the glass' entire edge as the noble let a blood curdling scream escape his lips. _Mmmmm, music to my ears._ Joker twisted the cap a quarter of a turn, sinking it deep into the man's flash, grinding it against his skull. Oswald slipped into unconsciousness as Joker churned the skin around his eye. "Alright boys, I believe our message has been received. Let us depart before the city guards arrive."

Joker walked off down the street with his men trailing behind him, he was whistling a delightful tune and had a giddy bounce in his step.

_**Selina**_: Chapter 15

It had been near four months since Lord Wayne had last spoken with Selina. She had wrote it off as a lord being committed to his lordly duties, or that the recent events with Lord Tywin and the Joker had forced him even further into that dusty tomb up on the hill, or perhaps he died and his servant had lips like steel gates. She did not know, but she was determined to find out.

_I'm well aware all whores are equal in a nobleman's eyes…I just…_ Selina couldn't understand. The two most prevalent men in her life had both seemingly dropped her as if she were no more important than, _a whore, _she finished. _The two men I've spent the most time with in near half a year and one's a shut-in with a cane and the other's a recluse with a cape. I need to go out more._ If Batman wanted nothing from her but information, perhaps she could charm Lord Wayne for some more gifts, or more.

She walked over to the wardrobe and removed from it the most elegant dress she owned. It was made of a fine crimson silk with golden trim and a matching scarf to drape over her. The silk felt so smooth on her bare skin, it showed her bodice off better than any other garment she had. Meelo brushed against her bare ankles and settled himself down on her right foot. Isis watched from atop her wardrobe staring with his bright little eyes. He had grown, big enough to hunt mice in the basement most nights.

Her cats had adjusted to her new dwellings far quicker than she had. The former bakery had two floors and a basement. It was small and quaint, but perfect for what she needed right now. Yet it still felt as cold and desolate to her as the Wall would be to a new recruit. This was not her home, but then again neither was the Lion's Den. Selina had yet to find a true home, at any point in her life. She rarely touched the first floor or basement, her cats had taken that ground over as their place to play and hunt. Whenever she returned to the small wooden stead she would march up the stairs right to her bedroom on the second floor.

The bakery was in a safer part of the city than the Den had been, for that she was grateful. In the Narrows a place such as this one would be an easy target just begging to be broken into and ransacked. Here she could lay her head down peacefully each night without worry of hearing glass shatter or her door kicked in. It was a welcome change of pace for her, but did not make the stead feel any less cold.

As she finished hanging her most recently acquired necklace about her neck, her newest orphan leapt up onto the table in front of her. She had dirty, unkempt fur that was light gold with streaks of light brown running through it. Selina had named her Holly, for obvious reasons. She even had Holly's eye color, and her unwillingness to back down to larger adversaries. Last night she watched Holly fight three of her older male cats for a scrap of beef. The other three had won out in the end, but Holly had fought them off for a good three minutes. _Like Holly with that bearded stranger outside the Lion's Den all those nights ago. _Selina of course knew now that stranger was Batman in disguise, it made her smirk at the thought. _Holly stabbed the Batman, the brave little fool…_She itched a finger behind Holly's ear before turning towards the door and departing.

It was pleasant out. The sun usually took to hiding behind the clouds, but a majority of the sky was painted a bright turquoise. The people were bustling in the streets like locusts in a field, all bumping into each other and babbling on about irrelevant matters that pertained to only themselves. They had seemingly rebounded from Lord Tywin's reign with zest, and the city returned to its splintered form of peace. She walked through the streets as the ghost of the city that she was. _I am even more beyond peoples' eyes of awareness than Batman, despite him thinking himself to be but a shadow in this city. _Selina was the true shadow of city, a former whore turned thief that no one would cry for should she die this night, or years from now.

She sauntered up the hill as she left the stoned streets of the city for the cobbled path leading towards the castle. She was let through the castle's thick iron gates and continued her way up the smooth stone path to the castle's main doors. Once there, she slipped a hand around the brass door ring and gave it a few loud knocks. The rings on both doors were clutched in the jaws of brass bat heads with snarling snouts and hellish looking sharp teeth. _Why would Bruce want to hold up in here? I would be looking for the first carriage out of this dismal keep after spending so much as a night here. _

After a few moments of inspecting the old oak doors Lord Wayne's servant answered her call. The older gentleman smiled at the sight of her pretty face, "Oh Lady Kyle I was not expecting you. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually there is. I was wondering if Lord Wayne might be in. It has been quite some time since I last saw him and was wondering how he faired with all of these dark events going on around us and if he would like some company? Not that you aren't enough, of course."

The Dornish servant laughed, "Oh no offense taken my lady. Alas, Lord Wayne is in a meeting he cannot be pulled away from, even for a sight as lovely as you. You have my apologies on behalf of my lord."

Selina looked to the ground in rejection before meeting the Dornishman's eyes once more, "He's married, or engaged, or something else, isn't he?"

Alfred returned with a small, regretful smile, "To his work."


	33. Bruce 18: Alfred 15: Bruce 19

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 18

"Is she gone?" Bruce asked when his loyal servant returned from the door.

"Yes Master Bruce, I sent Lady Kyle away. She looked rather distressed over the matter," he replied with an obvious layer of disagreement in his voice.

"Alfred, I need her as Batman, not Bruce Wayne. I got what information out of her that I needed to as Bruce Wayne. Now, Batman needs her for her criminal connections." Alfred would never understand why Bruce was doing this, but nothing could be done of it.

"And what of Bruce Wayne's _legacy_, ser? Are we to throw that to the wind? What should happen should you die one night out there on the streets? No heir to your estate, no way to tell the city folk their lord had perished, lest they find your bloodied and armored corpse on the streets and discover your secret themselves! You are but three-and-twenty Master Bruce, you need not swear yourself to a life of solitude just yet," Alfred replied half pleading and half arguing.

"Alfred, I can't. I know it hurts you to say this, but I cannot do that." _I cannot go out there, knowing someone is waiting for me in my bed back here._

Alfred regained his posture and composure, "Very well, ser. Ser Gordon is to arrive within the hour or so his messenger this morning said. You know what his intent is I trust?"

"He's spoken with the Batman but has yet to speak with Lord Wayne. He hopes to see whether he can make any connection between the two. You found the right girl I trust?"

"Yes ser, beautiful, expensive, and most importantly, does not speak a word of the Common Tongue," Alfred replied dutifully. He began neatening the array of plates and dishes with half eaten food rotting away on them. Bruce rarely ate, but he had made Dick eat at least two meals a day. The boy was still growing and with the strain Bruce was making his body go through every day Dick needed all of the energy he could get. Even now Dick was hard at work, practicing with his throwing knives. Bruce glanced over to see two in the center ring of the target's alternating rings with three scattered throughout the others. _One more than the week past, good._

He called out to the boy, "Dick! I have some matters to attend to upstairs! Stay here and continue practicing, Lucius is in charge."

The young boy turned from his target and wiped the sweat from his brow with his wrist. He nodded in understanding and returned to his work. Bruce followed Alfred up the carved, stone stairs of the cave leading up to the castle. They climbed the ladder to Thomas Wayne's study and pulled the book lever to let the large wooden bookshelf cover their tracks. Bruce grabbed his cane and limped out into the hallway and up the marble steps to the second floor. He went to his chambers and changed into his satin bed robe that he had yet to wear since returning to Gotham.

When he exited the room Alfred was there with a full wine bottle and a beautiful woman at his side. She had the darker skin of the lands from across the narrow, but had golden hair. She was wearing a light pink silk bed robe that was loosely closed by a matching silken belt around her waist. She had light blue eyes and thin reddened lips. _Much like Talia's_, Bruce thought to himself. He still saw her in his dreams on a rare occasion, the few times he even did dream.

The woman began speaking in Myrish,"So you are the wealthy man who pays for my company?"

Bruce smiled and replied in the same language, "Yes, if you do nothing but giggle and laugh anytime I look at you with a smile than you shall leave here much wealthier than whence you came."

The lady smiled a seductive smile and nodded. Bruce took the opened wine bottle from Alfred and guzzled half of its contents in a few gulps. His guests would think it to be wine, when in actuality it was but juice squeezed from raspberries in their garden. "Alright Alfred, we will be waiting in the common room on the first floor. Meet us there when our guests arrive."

Bruce offered his arm to the lady who graciously took it up in hers as he proceeded to limp down the stairs. He walked through the stone corridor until he reached the oak doors to the lavishly decorated common room. The chairs were all made up of the finest satin this side of the narrow sea, the tables were finely detailed oak and cherry wood, and large glass windows stood facing out towards the sea. Alfred's sole duty for the day had been dusting and cleaning the place as if it were commonly used. Bruce had ordered Dick to help him much to the boy's disagreement.

Bruce settled himself and his lovely guest into the nearest lounge seat facing two chairs that had been pulled up. Bruce spoke to her for a few minutes about where she was from, what her family was like, why she had come to Westoros, before Alfred knocked at the door. He parted the door just enough to slip himself in before announcing, "Ser James Gordon and Lady Sarah Essen of the City Watch, my lord."

Bruce stood from his seat and limped over to his guests as Alfred led them in. He took Sarah's hand in his and kissed her knuckle, "Lady Sarah, a pleasure to meet you. So good of you to visit us all the way from…where was it again?"

She smiled and replied, "Highgarden, my lord."

Bruce chuckled, "Ah yes of course, it was but on the tip of my tongue. Was never one for geography I'm afraid. Alfred! Some glasses for our guests. And another bottle if you would, this one seems to have evaporated, _Ha!_"

James raised a hand to stop him, "A little early in the day for us to be drinking my lord but you have our thanks. We do not wish to waste your time-"

Bruce cut him off, "My time is worthless Ser. Simply ask Alfred."

Alfred left the room and closed the large doors behind him with a _thud_. Bruce sat himself back down beside his female companion as he gestured his two guests to sit in the chairs across from him. _Now to lay it on thick._

"I have been following your exploits Ser Gordon. I must say I'm impressed! You seem to be getting as much attention as this Batman fellow. It is Batman you wish to be speak to me about is it not? Something along the lines of me _being _him?"

Gordon and Sarah looked to each other confusedly and with worry in their eyes. _They fear they have offended me_.

"My pardons Ser Gordon, it must be this delicious wine," Bruce said before taking another long drink from the bottle Alfred had just given him. "Oh where are my lordly manners? I neglected to introduce my, um, _friend…_You see, I'm not entirely sure what her name truly is. She also doesn't speak any language that I know of." Bruce laughed and turned to the woman resting her head upon his shoulder cuing her to giggle as they had agreed.

"Well that must certainly be convenient," Sarah said with a frank smirk on her face.

Gordon shot her a glare, "_Sarah._ My apologies Lord Wayne, but I need to know where you were these past few nights. I have some other dates as wel-"

Bruce interrupted once more, "For the past few nights I have been with my lovely guest sitting to my left. As for the other dates, well Ser, any nights past this last week are a bit of a blur in truth. Good wine and good women will do that to a man I suppose!" Bruce laughed again as his foreign beauty joined him.

Sarah looked to Gordon with a raised eyebrow in a look of irritation. The man sighed before standing, "Very well my lord. We shall return another time when your memory is hopefully less…_foggy_. We will see ourselves out."

"Oh nonsense, Alfred!" After waiting a few moments with no response, Bruce shouted once more, "Alfred! _Alfred!_"

"Truly my lord, it is no problem at all," James said as he opened the door with Sarah at his back.

"I suppose I shall lead you out myself then, Ser James. It is the least I can do for a man as brave as yourself."

He silently lead his two guests down the dark stone corridor from which they had came until they reached the towering oak doors at the front of the castle. "Have a pleasant rest of your evening Ser James, Lady Essen," he insisted with a smile.

"Thank you my lord, we will," James replied as he led his companion out the doors and back down the hill to Gotham. Bruce closed the door and let his smile fade. He lifted his cane and walked with a swift but cautious determination to the corridor adjoining the main entrance chambers. As he strode past the main dining hall he heard a _thud_ from within. _There's an intruder, Alfred…_

He burst through the door, "Alfred!" His cane was waist level, ready to strike should he deem it necessary. Bruce was at the northern side of the hall, looking out upon the vacant dusty tables, save for the lord's table at the back of the large room. Alfred was standing to its side with a worried expression upon his face. He softly called out to Bruce, "Ser, it would appear we have visitors."

Bruce turned his gaze to the three sitting at the table in the center of the lord's horizontal row. One was a young girl, no older than ten with dark brown hair and fierce looking eyes. Next to her sat a girl appearing slightly older in age, with light auburn hair, high cheekbones and vivid blue eyes. To her left sat a man Bruce had not seen in almost fifteen years. His closely trimmed beard was beginning to gray, his hair was longer than it had been all of those years ago. His eyes remained gray, but his face had grown older, with more wrinkles at his brow and eyes. He was wearing a dark green doublet with a golden emblem of a hand on one breast and the emblem of a silver direwolf on the other. He stood, and looked at Bruce with his cold eyes.

He called out, "So is this how they treat guests in the South? I've been here but two months and already I have had my fill of your Southerners' excuse for hospitality!"

Bruce remained frozen, his eyes unable to move from the man's gaze, his legs frozen in place. Lord Eddard Stark looked upon the young lord and gave a warm smile, "Oh thaw those bones before they shatter, and come give my daughters and I some food before we starve."

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 15

They ate a hurriedly fixed meal of sliced beef with potatoes and steamed carrots. Bruce sat in silent astonishment for a majority of their supping, shocked that the man that had helped start him on his current path was now sitting before him. Lord Eddard Stark looked almost magnanimous despite being weary from travel and supping between his two small daughters. _Men often look at their greatest in settings such as these, not out on the battlefield._

His daughter Arya had a rather fervent appetite, quickly devouring most of the food on her plate. Alfred watched in a silent admiration as the small girl grabbed a potato whole and began biting into it as if she were a wolf biting into a deer's hide. Her sister Sansa seemed the complete opposite, quietly and slowly cutting and eating her food in small bites. She barely looked at her sister as they ate, and on the rare occasion she did it was with an obvious look of contempt.

After Arya ate her third potato by hand, Sansa spoke up. "Arya we are in a lord's presence. It's not as if we were at home where your lack of manners goes unnoticed by everyone."

Arya frowned and replied to her sister, "We were on the road for more than a fortnight. I'm hungry, father's hungry, _you're_ hungry. If you want to eat slowly I won't stop you, but _I_ want food in me and I'm not going to eat slowly just because that's the polite thing to do."

Sansa's face grew a lighter shade of red in both embarrassment and anger, "Arya we ar-"

Lord Eddard cut his daughters' squabble off, "Girls stop this arguing or I'll send you both off without finishing your supper. Arya we are guests in Lord Wayne's castle so please eat with some amount of manners. Sansa, we have spent a great deal of time traveling these last few months so go easy on your sister. Now, Lord Wayne please tell us more of ho-"

Now Lord Stark was interrupted by his daughter as Arya blurted out, "Tell us about Batman!"

Ned turned his gaze upon her with a look of reproach, "Arya we are _guests_, please remember that fact and act as such you do not just shout out questions about matters close to home."

Bruce smiled. "No, no Lord Stark it's quite alright. What would you like to know dear girl?"

Arya's face lit up with intrigue and excitement, "What does he look like?"

Alfred smirked, _black hair, dark blue eyes, has an uncanny resemblance to Bruce Wayne._

Bruce responded, "I have yet to see the man myself, but I hear he has the blood of a direbat flowing through his veins. He stands tall amongst other men, not as tall as the Mountain mind you, but makes others cower under him. They say he adorns himself with a cape made from the shadows of the night itself. Batman strikes quietly in the night, but then disappears before any man can lay eyes on him for long, as if he were nothing but an apparition."

_Master Bruce is enjoying his 'story-telling' quite a bit, truth be told he's quite good at it. I believe I'll take credit for that._ Alfred smiled, remembering all of the nights he stayed up with a young Bruce recounting tales of ancient heroes and dragons. He watched the young girls' reactions to Bruce's tale. Sansa looked interested but still had a very calm, reserved face. Arya on the other hand, her face was grinning and her eyes followed every movement of Bruce's hand and her ears clung to every word from his mouth. _Just like the young boy I knew all those years ago._

After Bruce had finished his storytelling, Lord Eddard smiled, "Well girls I believe that is enough for now. Alfred, if you would please lead my daughters to whatever chambers you would have them in."

Alfred's spirit flared a bit, hearing his name spoken by a man as renowned and noble as Ned Stark. _If anyone can help Bruce free himself from the dark shackles he binds himself in, it is Lord Eddard._ "Yes my lord, right away. Lady Arya, Lady Sansa, if you would."

Alfred held a hand out to the nearest entranceway beside the lords' table as the girls excused themselves from their places. Sansa walked slowly and gracefully from the hall as Arya quickly leapt from the upraised stone platform the table sat upon to Alfred's side. Sansa was wearing an elegant teal dress with gemstone studs down the front and white lace ruffles down its length. Arya was donned in a green tunic with dark brown trousers and leather boots on her nimble little feet. Alfred led them out of the hall, shutting the large wooden doors upon his exit.

As they walked through the stone corridor to the stairwell Alfred inspected the two young guests. Arya was several steps in front of them and walked with a hurried pace as if her impatience to reach her destination outweighed her care to uphold a usual sense of ladylike courtesy. Her sister on the other hand moved with the slow and steady elegance of a queen. _As opposite as fire and ice._

"Tell me lady Arya, how old are you?"

The girl turned around, "Nine, ser."

Alfred turned his head towards Sansa walking beside him and raised an eyebrow as they met eyes. "Eleven, ser Pennyworth."

The servant chuckled, "Oh my dear by no means am I a _ser _Pennyworth. You may simply call me Alfred."

"Alfred, how does Lord Wayne walk up those stairs if he's crippled?" Arya pointed to the marble stairway before them leading up to the upper floors.

"Well my lady, despite having a cane he can still walk up stairs. He does it just as the rest of us do, one foot after the other," the Dornishman replied with a smile.

Arya leapt up three steps and turned back to face them as Alfred and her sister caught up. "Well if I was a lord of a castle I would never let another man injure me severely enough to be a cripple! I would fight off any man that challenged me and leave unscathed."

Sansa gave her sister a scathing look, "You will never _be_ the lord of a castle because you're a girl. You'll grow old, have sons, marry a lord, and do anything he asks. Stop jumping around like a fool."

The small girl frowned, "Well perhaps you can accept that life of growing into an old crone in a castle, but I won't. I'll learn to fight, and kill, I will be a better fighter than even Jaime Lannister!"

She ran up the remaining stairs to the second floor, skipping every other or every three until she stood at the top and looked down at her followers. Alfred spoke up, "Well from my experience Lady Arya, I have seen great men become legends, and great men become peasants. So I believe anything is possible."

Arya smiled, "Alfred, if you are no ser than I am certainly no lady. Just call me Arya from now on if you would."

Then Sansa spoke, "Alfred only spoke of _men_, Arya, he said nothing of women becoming legends."

Arya's cheeks flushed with red, "Then I will be the first woman to become a legend! And you can stay in your dusty old throne room with that craven little girl of a husband and turn to dust with him!"

Now Sansa's pale white cheeks reddened with anger. "Joffrey is a noble man and will grow into a great king!"

Sansa laughed, "His chances of becoming a righteous king are about as good as mine growing something between my le-"

Alfred interrupted, "Well that would be enough of that my ladies. Lady Sansa your chambers are right here on the left, Arya yours are the next door down."

"Thank you Alfred," Sansa stated bluntly before storming in her chambers and slamming the door shut. Alfred turned to Arya who was looking up at him with quizzical eyes.

"What is it my dear?"

Arya hesitated a moment and bit her lip before responding. "I'm sorry for annoying you Alfred."

_An apology? Well this is unexpected. _"It is fine dear girl, siblings do squabble. But you would do well not to stab your words so closely to your sister's heart. Prince Joffrey is our king's son and a pleasant enough young fellow."

"Have you ever met Joffrey?," she asked.

"No, I have not."

She looked to the ground, "then that is why you think he could be pleasant and noble. He is a monster."

Alfred kneeled down beside the girl and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "I have seen monsters my dear. Terrible beasts on both four legs and two. Joffrey is but a boy, he can still grow and change as age grants him wisdom. Some men, they are but monsters born into darkness and that die within it."

She looked up, "Are you speaking of Batman? Tell me about him."

The Dornishman sighed, and looked up to her with a smile. "I was not, for Batman is not a monster born into darkness, merely a man trying to fight a war in the dark of night." _Bruce was not born into darkness, he was born into a light as blinding as the sun's. Darkness crept up on his world, and overtook it with such speed that even the Others would hide from. _"One night I will tell you a tale of Batman, but for now why don't you go to your chambers and wait for your father. I'm sure he will not be long."

She gave a small smile and nod before turning and walking to her chambers. _She certainly has a warrior's spirit, I pray for the man that tries to wed her._

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 19

Bruce watched the girls follow Alfred out of the feasting hall, the older one walking slowly while the younger one moved with the lively pace of a young boy. When the doors thudded closed, Bruce turned to his guest. It had been so long since he had seen Eddard Stark that he had forgotten just how intimidating of a man he truly was. When Bruce saw him last he was but a boy, and Ned was close to the age Bruce was now. His hair was shorter then, only halfway down his neck. Now Ned had more wrinkles and lines from years of stress, and his hair reached to the line of his shoulders. But his eyes, his eyes were just as cold and unreadable as they had been all of those years ago.

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but no words could come out before Lord Eddard spoke. "Why?," was all the man said.

_Why..?_ Bruce looked to Ned in confusion, "Why what my lord?"

Ned gave a small frown, "You may call me Ned, boy, and you know right well why. Why are you doing this?"

Bruce put down his fork and took another drink of his wine before proceeding. "I'm afraid I do not understand, why am I doing what? Why did I leave? Why do I stay in this castle all day instead of attending to my city like you would do?"

Ned looked to the ground in disappointment before meeting Bruce's gaze. "No. Why are you running around in the night with a damned helmet and cape trying to wage some lone war on crime. Why must you do this to yourself?"

Bruce let out a light but nervous chuckle, "Lord Eddard, I do not know what you have heard, but I am not this Batman. I'm crippled, a drunkard, I spend my nights with whores and a glass of wine in my hand. I don't run about rooftops and-"

Eddard stood from his seat, anger apparent on his face. "Do not lie to me boy. When you charged in here you had your cane raised as if it were a sword. You are a swordsman, I have seen more of those in my lifetime than I can even begin to count. You are also not a drunkard that whores himself to sleep each night. My dearest friend is King Robert Baratheon, so I know a true whoring drunkard when I see one, and you Bruce, are not. Do not attempt to tell me I am wrong."

Bruce did not know how to reply to what Ned had said. He just sat silently and stared back at the older lord who was now pacing in front of the lord's table. _Am I that apparent that a man who has seen me but twice in my life can know my secret?_

Lord Eddard looked up to Bruce who remained seated on the raised stone platform a few steps above the floor. He looked as stern and unforgiving as the North itself, "I told you to continue on your father's legacy! To become a symbol of peace and justice! Not one of fear and darkness! _Agh_ Bruce, why do you need to become this knight of darkness? You could help your city in the daylight. You could be wed, have an heir, give the City Watch gold! Teach them what you have learned in your decade long absence. You do not need to cast yourself into the shadows to do this. Nor must you live your life in such solitude to do it!

That boy I saw fifteen years ago was scared and angry but he had _hope_. There was a light in him that was not going to be put out by anything in this world. Yet you have somehow managed to not only dim that light, but extinguish it, and for what? To beat up thugs in the night, scare some thieves, give birth to creatures such as this Joker?"

Bruce's temper flared, "I did _not _create that monster!"

Ned shouted back, "No you are not the one that poisoned his soul but you were a beacon that led him here like a moth to the flame! You brought him here, because you decided to be a fool and paint a target on your back for the entire world to see! Do you think it was just the Joker that saw the light this Batman cast into the sky? That's why Lord Tywin came here, to rid the world of something that would change it in such a way even _he _could feel fear. And there will be others, soon enough maybe Lord Tyrell, or the Red Viper of Dorne, perhaps even King Robert himself will send an army to your gates calling for Batman's head!

That is why I am here Bruce. King Robert is wary of what the Batman is, if he represents a threat to the realm, if he must be dealt with. He wished to send Jaime Lannister here to avenge his father's honor, but I knew it was you, and I could not let someone as quick-tempered as Jaime come here. I told the king that this is a delicate matter and one that requires more than a good sword, but I did not know what type of man would greet me when I arrived. Would it be the same angry boy I saw all of those years ago? Or would it be someone whose heart has only darkness locked away in it. So tell me Bruce, what sort of man are you?"

Bruce stood, leaving his cane resting against the table and showing Lord Eddard the strength of the man that stood before him. "I have _hope_, hope that my city can be saved. That my people can live on without fear of criminals corrupting the core of this city beyond repair. That is why I do this, why I wage my war in the shadows. The kingdom, the crown, none of you have ever done anything to help my city's plight! My city bleeds because of it, while King Robert sits upon his Iron Throne and drinks and fucks his life away. While Lord Tywin sits upon his golden throne shitting his fortune. While you sit upon your throne of ice and watch the world around you change as your wintery fortress remains the same. I chose to _act_! In a world of men that sit down and give orders I chose to stand!

Do not lecture me on whether there is light in my heart or not! There is more than a light there, there is a _burning _fire more intense than the rays of the sun itself. My light will never be put out, just as my mission will never cease. No matter if it is Lord Tywin or King Robert himself at my gates, I will continue trying to save this city! You once said to become something more than a man to honor my father, well I have done just that," he finished, realizing he was breathing deeply. His hands were clenched into fists, and he had somehow found his way to where Ned stood at the front of the lord's table. They were but a few paces from each other now, both staring into the other's eyes unwilling to falter.

Lord Eddard sighed, "This is not the life your father wanted for you."

Bruce turned and looked about the grand feasting hall as he shouted, "Yes! My father would wish for me to marry, father some heirs, continue on the legacy of Wayne! What a perfect world that would be." He turned back to face his guest. "That life was ripped from me the day they were killed. It was never an option; I had no choice but the path that was laid out before me. Surely you understand that easier than most."

Ned looked to the ground. "Yes, I too have had loved ones ripped from me. My father was burned alive in his armor, my brother strangled himself while trying to save him, and my sister was raped and murdered, all three at the hands of King Aerys Targaryen. I am well aware what the poison of hatred and revenge does to a man's mind, to his soul. That is why I tell you there is always a choice! You need not condemn yourself to this life. You can still leave the helm of Batman behind you. You can find happiness as I did. I took my brother's betrothed as my own and grew to love her, bore children with her, continued on my family's legacy. As you can choose to do."

"I am honoring my parents' spirits. They tried to save this city by giving gold, being loved by the people, being symbols for hope. It did not work. I will be a symbol for criminals to fear, I will help this city with my own two hands, and I must do that alone. I am sorry Lord Eddard, but nothing you say will deter me from my cause. I am no threat to the realm, so long as they do not come to Gotham to interfere with me I will not go out to seek a war with them. Lord Tywin came here for selfish reasons, and he was left shamed. It is not only I who fight, but the city will defend itself. That is what you may tell King Robert, that I am no threat so long as they leave me out of their wars so that I may fight my own. I trust you did not tell anyone else of my identity."

"No, only I know of it. Very well Bruce, but I would still like to stay a small while to judge that for myself. Now show me it," he replied sternly.

"What Lord Eddard?"

"Once more, call me Ned. And the suit, I want to see it."

Bruce looked back up to the stone ceiling of the feasting hall. Looking over the hanging golden chandeliers that would illuminate the large room should they be lit, the stained windows along the right wall, the metal, spired beams supporting the angled roof. "Very well, follow me, _Ned._" Bruce grabbed his cane from its resting place and limped down the corridors of his family's castle to his father's study. Ned slowed his pace to walk beside Bruce, never inspecting his surroundings, only staring straight ahead at the path laid out before him. They were silent, never whispering a word to each other in the few minutes it took to slowly make their way to Thomas Wayne's study. Bruce felt different being in Ned's presence, he did not know how to describe it, but he felt like a child.

As they reached the doors to the tomb of books, Ned spoke, "Why bother with the cane? It is only us?"

Bruce smiled, "I remember hearing your youngest daughter had a knack for not following orders. I imagine she's exploring the castle as we speak. I would believe it would appear odd should she see the crippled lord of the castle walking about fine with two legs. It would certainly make your duty as a father more difficult with all of her questions."

Ned stared at Bruce a moment before replying, "Fair enough."

Bruce led him inside and closed and locked the doors. He walked over to the bookcase beside the fireplace and pulled the book to make the wooden shelf slide to the side. Ned stared in awe with his mouth hanging open, not believing what he was witnessing. They climbed down the ladder to the stone tunnel leading into the cave.

As they left the narrow walkway to the open air of the massive cave, Ned's breath caught in his throat. Bruce watched as Ned took a few, steady steps onto the cave floor and gazed around at the massive, hollow bowl in the ground. He watched the bats fly above him, the water rush through the stone islands connected by stone or wooden bridges, and finally rested on the wooden cabinet in the center of the room. _It's as if he can feel it. _

Ned looked to Bruce for reassurance, and Bruce gave a slow nod. _Now it is as if he is the child._ Ned walked out to the large, center island of stone and stood before the dark-stained wooden wardrobe. He gently placed a hand on each brass, bat wing handle and pulled the doors open. He took a slow step back as his eyes were met with the blank, hollow eyes of Batman's helmet.


	34. Richard 13: Alfred 16: Harvey 1

_**Richard**_: Chapter 13

"They just were here? No message of their coming or anything?"

Alfred sighed, "Yes Master Richard, I merely answered the door and their Lord Stark was with his daughters. Master Bruce is speaking with Lord Eddard now, the girls are in their chambers. I just thought I should warn you of their coming. Since there are women in the house now I expect you to mind your manners and be most courteous. You are their host."

Dick smirked, "They're no older than me, they are not women. And Bruce is their host, I'm merely his ward, or squire, serving boy, or whatever I am."

Alfred smiled and ruffled the boy's hair, "I would think of you as his apprentice, not his serving boy. Good night, Master Richard."

"Night Alfie."

The servant left to return to his own chambers, leaving Dick sitting in his chair and staring into the fire. The fire had given him a great deal of comfort since coming here the night his parents died. It was the one source of consistency that Alfred had suggested he find. _It is warm, bright, gives men hope in the darkness_. Dick smiled.

He then heard a shuffling outside his door. Dick looked suspiciously at the door, expecting Alfred to return, but it remained closed. Dick slowly stood and moved to free Nightwing from his cage. Once the bird stood on the boiled leather glove Dick wore to save his hand from the hawk's talons, he crept back to the door. He rested an ear against the hard wood listening for anymore noises before slowly turning the handle and poking his head out into the hall.

The corridor was empty, Alfred's door to his right and the doors to Thomas Wayne's study at his left both shut. Then he heard a soft thud echo down the hall from past the study. _The main stairwell._

Dick quietly walked down the stone hallway without so much as a sound. He had gotten much better at remaining unheard when moving. Even Nightwing remained silent, his eyes fixed at the corner they were fast approaching. Dick slunk up to the corner and slowly pointed his head around just in time to see a foot disappear behind the corner at the far end of the main hall. Dick left the corner and quietly paced down the length of the hall, under the marble staircase that led to the upper floors, past the long tapestries hanging on the walls, and finally arriving at the corner at the end of the hall. He once again turned his head to peer into the formerly abandoned hallway.

This time he saw a young girl with long brown hair kneeling in front of a door fiddling with its brass handle. She was wearing common dressings, a loose sleeved tunic, and plain breeches. Dick moved down the hall quietly, the girl was so entranced in her work she paid him no mind even when he was but four paces from her.

"What are you doing?"

The girl jumped and turned on him so quickly that Dick barely had time to dodge her swinging arm. She put a hand to her chest to calm her nerves as her breath slowed and she matched Dick's gaze. She had pale gray eyes, and the moonlight reflected off of her face making it look almost angelically white. She had a longer face, and her unruly hair was pulled back into a braid. She had a small metal pin in the hand opposite the one she had tried to strike Dick with.

"I-I, how did you do that?," she asked.

"Do what? You're the one trying to break into a room that is locked."

"I didn't hear you coming. I can hear a cat's footsteps but I couldn't hear yours," she said raising an eyebrow.

"I suggest first you answer who you are and what you're doing. Then, I may tell you how I could move silently," he responded firmly.

The girl blinked and looked to the ground in uncertainty before looking up to coldly match eyes with Dick. "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. Daughter of the Lord Hand and Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. I was just trying to see what was behind the locked door. There seems to be a lot of them here."

"Yes because we do not want guests going where they shouldn't."

The girl smiled, "You know, Winterfell has no locked doors. We have nothing to hide. So what do you have to hide here I wonder? You're the circus boy aren't you?"

Dick hesitated, "I used to be." He turned and began walking back down the hallway the way he had come.

Arya waited until he was twenty paces away before loudly whispering, "Wait! You never told me how you walked so silently!"

She ran after him, her footsteps echoing loudly down the empty, stone corridor. Nightwing stared at her as she slowed her pace to match Dick's. "It appears your bird likes me, does he have a name?"

Dick did not look at her. "Nightwing, and he is not simply some bird, he's a _hawk_."

Arya looked to the ground, "Sorry. I had a wolf once, a direwolf. She was beautiful, her name was Nymeria."

Dick continued looking forward as they rounded the corner back into the main hallway. "What happened to her?," he asked.

"I had to chase her off or else she would have been killed. Why won't you look at me?," she questioned as she turned to stand in his path.

"I don't know. How you act, I think. Just saying I'm _the _circus boy as if that were all I am. It would be like me calling you the wolf girl," he replied. The girl seemed rather rude, and either uncaring or unaware of other's emotions. _I am more than just a circus boy. I am Richard Grayson, the last of my name. I am Robin, apprentice of Batman himself._

She inched her face closer to his with a look of fiery determination. "I _am_ a wolf girl. I do not hide or run from what I am. I am as quiet as a shadow, as swift as a cat, and I am a water dancer!"

Dick chuckled, "What is a water dancer? Do you throw water in people's face to fend them off?" Dick pushed past her but she caught him by the shoulder with a firm grip. Dick turned to look at her over his shoulder, "Sorry but I do not fight girls, my apologies _m'lady_."

Arya smirked, "I was about to tell you the same thing."

Dick smiled, "Follow me, but remember you asked for it."

He led her down the hallway opposite the one with his and Alfred's chambers, to the guest dining hall. It was only the length of three of Dick's chambers but was still lavishly decorated. A thin layer of dust had built up on the table tops and chairs as the hall had not been used in two months. Dick moved to the far side of the hall to the fireplace, Arya hesitantly following behind him. Dick moved a chair to the hearth's front and stood on it to reach the crossed swords hanging above it. He drew the blades from their places and tossed one to Arya.

They were thinner blades, and lighter than most swords. They were the same ones that he and Alfred had sparred with months ago. Arya looked at the metal in her hand before looking back up to Dick. He jumped down from the chair to spin the blade in his hand. "They are dulled so no need to worry about spilling any blood from that delicate little body of yours."

She smirked and held the sword out flat, pointing it at Dick. "Oh I wouldn't be the one to bleed anyways." She lowered her body and turned it so that Dick could only see her profile from the side. She wielded the blade with one hand, the other raised out from her body on the far side.

Dick looked at her confusedly, "What are you doing?"

"This is how a water dancer fights. My body's turned on its side to face you, making me less of a target. Why? What is your stance?," she asked as she stepped closer to Dick.

"I don't have one," he lunged forward with a soft blow to get a taste for how she fought. She parried and tried to counterattack but Dick was already two paces to his left by the time her blade's edge came down. She swung again and Dick merely ducked and stepped to his right. She clearly was not overly skilled with a blade, but she was disciplined and determined. Dick admittedly was not overly skilled with a blade either, but he was well aware of that. He took very few swings at her, choosing to sidestep and dodge her attacks rather than counter.

She fought him until his back was to the table, leaving him no room left to dodge her blows. She brought her sword back and jabbed it forward as Dick leapt up and landed on the table with great ease. She blinked at the unexpected move, and Dick took this time to run down the length of the table. Arya shook her head before climbing onto the table and following him. _Just like Alfie, only shorter, and still has hair. _

He turned to face his opponent as she caught up to him and continued her assault. Dick stepped back and to the side and ducked, occasionally bringing his sword up to block hers. After a few more minutes Arya's swings slowed, her breath grew heavy, and she was clearly tiring. Nightwing cawed from his perch on the far side of the room beside the fire.

"Drop your blade and admit defeat," Dick taunted with a smirk.

She looked up from the table and charged him for one last attack. She brought her sword quickly to Dick's right as he stepped to the left and then slipped his feet in between her legs and spun. She lost her footing on the table's smooth, wooden top and fell to the ground below. She looked up at him with a scowl as Dick picked up her sword from the table.

"In all fairness, I did give m'lady a chance," he chided teasingly.

He dropped to the ground and offered her a hand. She swatted it aside as she stood and dusted off her tunic with an irritated grunt. He smiled and walked to the opposite end of the hall and put the blades back in their resting place. He donned the leather glove and allowed Nightwing to hop onto his outstretched hand.

"How do you move like that?," she asked him.

He turned around to face her before smirking and answering, "As you said. I'm a circus boy. Good night."

He left the hall and returned to his chambers. He changed into his bed dressings, put Nightwing back in his cage, and crawled into his bed. All the while, a large smirk never leaving his face.

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 16

The bookcase slid to the side as Alfred expertly proceeded to climb down the ladder with only one hand as the other was busy balancing a silver serving tray. Honeyed pork and steamed carrots were today's course. _Not that Bruce will eat very much of it,_ Alfred thought to himself.

As he left the narrow, carved tunnel into the open expanse of the cave Alfred's face contorted in surprise. Lord Eddard Stark sat at Bruce's large wooden desk holding the helmet of Batman in his lap. He appeared to be in a staring match with the empty eye slits. Alfred looked around the cave, noting that neither Lucius nor Bruce were present. After a moment he regained his composure and proceeded forward to the desk. As he neared, he noticed the Northern lord did not notice his approach or made no signs of heeding it.

"For the sake of my lord's head and more importantly my own, I am going to assume Master Bruce showed you this place. For if he did not, I would like to confess that my lord forced me to aid him in his schemes at the edge of a blade," Alfred said with a light-hearted smile.

Lord Eddard continued to look into the empty eyes of the helm. "Yes Alfred, the boy, or _man_ I should say, showed me the cave. I knew he was Batman before I came, I could see it in his eyes. I'm sure you see it every day." He finally looked away from the helmet's eyes to meet Alfred's. "How do you look into those eyes every day? The look in them, the anger, the hurting, the thirst for vengeance, it's all…I can see the darkness in the boy's heart. I don't think even my own heart sank that far when my family was torn from me. Their deaths were even more brutal…self-imposed hanging, melting in armor, rape…just, I do not know."

Alfred laid the tray on the desk beside the others from days past. "Master Bruce is a difficult man to attempt to understand my lord. When you lost your family you were already a man grown. You could raise your men at arms, ally with our current king, you were old enough to know that there was more to this world than darkness and anger. Bruce…he was so young. I tried as best as I could but…come with me my lord. I wish to show you something."

Lord Stark peaked an eyebrow before nodding in understanding and following the servant back out of the cave. They walked out through the doors to the study and down the hall to the marble staircase, silent all the while. They walked up to the second floor, rounded the corner of the nearest hall, and proceeded through the nearest door on the right. Lord Eddard stopped to gaze around the room as Alfred continued on towards the fireplace.

"When Wayne Castle was built all of those years ago, Arwin Wayne had secret tunnels built into it connecting various chambers or even to beyond the castle walls it is rumored. Many of the tunnels have been lost to our knowledge over the course of the years, but some we remain privy to."

Alfred pushed one of the small stone bricks to the right of the fireplace as the wall beside it loosened with a soft _shhkt_. Alfred stepped to the right and pushed in on the wall, swinging it back like a door and revealing a small secret passageway. "Master Bruce used to come and hide in here when he was scared as a boy if his parents were out. He would bring a blanket and wrap himself up in this little nook until their return. It only happened during storms or when he had a haunting dream, but I learned quickly enough to find him here."

He looked back to the lord behind him staring at the servant confusedly. Alfred continued, "The night his parents were killed, I brought the boy back here. He cried, I can't remember for the life of me for how long, but then he said something. He said he would change this, he didn't know how, but he had it in his head that he would find a way. Then he walked up those steps just as we did and locked himself away in this little cave. I would bring a lit candle to illuminate the dark tunnel, but it would always be out upon my return. I would bring him food every morning and every night, but when I returned with the next plate of food I found the old one barely touched. He hid away in here for near a fortnight, not saying a word to myself or any of the other servants or city folk that came to see how well he was faring. When he finally did emerge, he was no longer a boy. This dark, desolate cave changed him. It forged him into something, _different_. When he emerged there were no more tears, no more wailing or sobbing, and I feared no more _light_. His eyes were cold, determined, a look that a boy of eight should never have. That is why you and Master Bruce are different my lord. You were grown enough to see the world still had light, to see that through all of the rage, hate, and sorrow, light was still inside your soul. Bruce however…he lost himself in the darkness, I feared forever. When he returned though, I could see the light in him once more, if only barely. Despite the solitude and dark corners of the world that his travels brought him through, it seemed the light inside him had somehow rekindled itself. This small cave here forged him into a rough blade pointed forward, but his decade away from this city sharpened him into something that was more than a man.

I know you disagree with him and his ways. I did myself for a long while, I still do in part…but with what has happened and what I have seen, Gotham _needs_ the Batman. Bruce will never step into the light of the world as himself nor share his knowledge and learnings with the City Watch or the rest of Westoros. I do not know if he will ever wed, or have heirs, but I have this feeling in my soul that I am unable to shake. That this all _means_ something; something greater than ourselves, something that will change the world in such a way that Aegon did with his dragons centuries ago. Westoros needs Batman as well, I only fear of what should happen if Batman proves _too_ different for this world and is cast out for it. That is where he needs _you_ my lord. He needs you to plead his case to King Robert, to help the other lords see that Batman is not a threat, to show them that Batman means something _more_."

Alfred ended his long speech as he closed the hidden passage and turned back to face Lord Eddard. The wintery lord's usually stoic, ice-carved face had melted, and small tears dotted the corners of his eyes. His mouth moved to speak but had difficulty finding the words, "I-I am sorry, I did not realize…Bruce…He has gone through so much and is but three-and-twenty. He has seen such beautiful things I am sure, but also such sorrows. Thank you, for sharing this with me Alfred."

He walked over to Alfred and laid a strong hand on the Dornishman's shoulder. "I am sure you know how important you are to him, but you also serve such a crucial role in his life."

Alfred nodded, "Yes my lord, I am the light to illuminate this dark path he is on."

Eddard smiled and shook his head, "No ser, you are not the light. I believe you are the fence at the edges of the path. You stop him from striding too far into the darkness of his heart. Thomas was my dear friend, as I'm sure he was yours as well. Bruce is not my son, but I do care for the boy greatly. I wish I had a man as loyal as you to rely on in my life. Continue to look after him, Alfred."

Alfred smiled, "I will never stop my lord."

Lord Eddard left the Waynes' bed chamber and returned to his own as Alfred returned to the kitchen to fetch Dick's morning meal. He knocked on the boy's door and proceeded in as he heard the boy grumble from his bed. Dick's hair was ruffled and messy as he leapt out of bed with a sudden alertness as if he had been awake for a long while. He snatched up the fork and began cutting into the sausage at the nearest edge of his plate.

"Thanks Alfie," he managed to get out in between fork-fulls of food being shoved into his mouth.

"You are welcome Master Richard, but as a suggestion…the next time you and lady Arya wish to duel I would suggest somewhere other than the guest dining hall. The dust that kicks up is a terrible foe for my lungs."

Dick froze with wide eyes and a fork still between his lips. "Foot prints never lie Master Richard," the servant chided with a smirk as he closed the door.

_**Harvey**_: Chapter 1

It was a time of peace for Westoros. No lords were warring, no men were incessantly dying, and the king was as merry as could be, and it was all so _dull_. Harvey hated war. He did not hate peaceful times, but times of peace proved so terribly boring for a man upholding the king's law. Harvey would spend the entire day in the king's throne room listening to peasants beg for gold to help their suffering farms, city folk wishing for vengeance upon their kin's killer, or lords wishing King Robert to grant them more lands or more honorable titles by kissing his fattened ass. _Weak little lickspittles, they have so much and yet need so much more. _

Harvey hated the way the world turned; greedy lords wishing for more whilst the impoverished only begged for the scraps from the lords' tables. _This is what a fair kingdom ought look like I suppose, unfair._ _Ugh what I would not give for a traitor or murderer to appear. _Harvey sat quietly in his place to the right side of the hall, listening as a farmer begged the throne to give him a few gold pieces to afford some more crops for the season. Summer was nearing its end, everyone knew it to be true. _And when it does, men such as these will be the ones to suffer._

It was not King Robert who sat upon the hardened metal throne, it never was. His brother Renly sat atop the pointed metal chair this day, and Harvey was not the least sliver of envious. The chair was more than just a dammed throne made of rusted swords and old blades, it was a death sentence. Whoever sat in that throne was destined to die. Harvey knew all men were, but those in the throne made theirs a gambit. While most men would die peacefully in their bed at a ripe old age unless war or illness took their life, kings were destined for something different. While many would die honorably and peacefully in their beds after long lifetimes of power, many died brutal, bloody deaths far too early.

Harvey thought of all of the kings who had died on or in the name of that twisted, iron chair at the head of the hall. The Mad King was the first that came to mind, stabbed through the back right on those steps by a young Jaime Lannister. Many despised the boy for that, for turning on his words to protect the king with his life, but Harvey did not. He would have done the same deed a thousand times over. A knight whose sworn duty to protect his king is undone when a king fails to uphold his sworn duty to protect his people. King Aerys deserved to die, and while Robert was a better king than the murderous mad man by far, he was still wanting greatly of what the title of king of the Seven Kingdoms deserved.

He watched how awkward Renly looked sitting in the throne, leaning forward onto his legs as to not put too much weight into the chair. A man is liked to get pricked by one of the pointed ends of one of the hundreds of swords used to forge the Iron Throne. _If I were king, I'd melt the damn thing down and make a nice throne of satin and feathers. _Harvey would never be king though, nor did he want to be.

_Lord Eddard looked more fitting in the throne, despite his hatred for it._ It had been a fortnight since the new Hand had departed for Gotham. King Robert wished to send Jaime and thirty of his best men, but Lord Stark had argued adamantly that he wished to resolve these matters. _A wolf's tongue more soothing than a lion's claw, there is something amusingly ironic in that matter somewhere._

Harvey had not returned to his home city of Gotham in over seven years. He had come to King's Landing after his father passed to aid on the King's court. At first he only fetched the court members drink or food during their time listening to people's complaints. After a while he moved up in status, becoming the presenter of the people's pleas and cases, and now served as the crown's official regent to Gotham and the western lands of Westoros. He had rode out to Casterly Rock and Highgarden a dozen times each, but he would never return to Gotham.

The city was a black pit of despair that consumed all that dared set foot in it. _Bruce had the right idea of it, leave and never return._ Harvey missed his dear childhood friend when he had time to. He had not seen him since two months before the young Wayne's departure across the narrow sea. _He was so cold, he seemed like a ghost, more man than boy._

Harvey had left the city as soon as he was able. The Hand at the time, Lord Arryn, had taken him in an taught him everything he could. Harvey had learned the histories of the great houses of Westoros, the politics of their current statures and affairs, even learned some deal of the politics across the sea. Harvey quickly grew to be one of the most knowledgeable of the workings and politics of Westoros, and even had consulted Lord Tywin and Lord Tyrell on his visits to their respective cities.

Harvey went over the last six generations of House Lannister in his head for the remainder of the peoples' cases laid before the court. He wanted to do something more for them, to make the world even the slightest bit fairer for them, but he could not stop the world's way of working any more than he could stop a storm on the salt seas. After every pleader Harvey would always whisper in his mind, _may you find the world fairer for you upon your departure._ He did not pray to the Seven, for he did not believe in gods. The only god he knew was what was fair, chance. It was faceless, so men did not need to dedicate hours or even lives to it in its prayer. It was final, a man's life was always left to chance, he could die in battle or be misfortunate enough to choke on a grape. But above all, it was fair, playing out evenly for both nobles and peasants.

"Officer Dent!" Harvey turned his head to look at the voice calling out to him as the large group of onlookers left after the day's affairs concluded. Ser Jaime Lannister approached him as Harvey stood and ran his hands down his chest to flatten his doublet. It was black with a blue trim as dark as the sea on a moon-less night. His family's sigil stood on his breast. A balance with chaotic black fire on one scale, and a fortress built upon the other. _To represent how even the chances are for chaotic destruction and lawful order are in this world._

Harvey smiled as the blonde haired knight approached him, "Good day Ser Jaime, how may I assist?"

"Well enough, the king has called for you, meet him in his solar. He is drunk as a forewarning," Jaime replied with a small smirk. The two of them got along well enough, both having a mutual understanding of their differing view of right and wrong than the one the rest of the world seemed to share.

"Isn't he always?," Harvey returned wittily.

He left the white-cloaked knight with a nod and paced down the hall and up the stairway to King Robert's solar. The guard let him through the door and Harvey was greeted with the distinct scent of alcohol and the familiar loud, clamorous voice of a drunken king. King Robert had a cup of ale in one hand while his other was tightened into a fist pressing into the desk. Robert's face was flustered red with both rage and drink, but all of his subjects had learned to say nothing. Harvey saw Queen Cersei sitting in a chair in front of the desk, and Master Pycelle in the other. Lord Varys stood quietly behind the old, bearded goat and two of the kingsguard stood dutifully behind King Robert's seat.

"Ah Dent! Finally a man with some sense! Come here boy come, come," the king beckoned with a drunken wave of his hand. Harvey followed orders and came to stand at the side of the king's desk.

"You lot, out now," Robert drunkenly growled at the rest of his visitors. Lord Varys bowed gracefully before moving to leave while Pycelle struggled to stand from his seat. Harvey could hear the man's frail bones creak like an old, wooden chair being sat in for the first time in a century. As Cersei stood she decided to protest the king's demand, "Your Grace, if I may-"

Robert shouted back at her, "Leave woman! I wish to go a few hours without your constant groanings and whinings in my ear!"

Cersei bit her tongue and followed the rest out, the two white knights closed the doors as they left. Dent turned back to face the king.

Robert poured himself another cup of ale while taking up a bottle of wine from under his desk to pour Harvey a glass. He slid it across the desk and pointed at the chair silently ordering him to sit. Harvey once again followed the king's direction and took up the glass to take a sip.

The king sighed, "I'll tell you boy. I am surrounded by men ready to either bend knee in fealty or to kiss my fat ass like a corpse is flocked to by ravens. How old are you again lad?"

"Three-and-twenty your Grace," he replied dutifully.

Robert chuckled, "And yet I trust you more than most of the dammed souls in these walls. How long has it been since Ned left?"

"A two weeks and one day your Grace. We sent them on our best horses so they should have arrive soon."

"_Ugh_, I brought him here to run my city, not ride off to another and try to help run that one. What do you make of this _Lord Wayne_ who has returned? I'm sure I've asked you before, but humor a drunken king's request."

Harvey thought a moment. "He was my greatest friend as a boy. We did many things together, us and our other friend Thomas Elliot. _Ha_, I remember my mother saying we were the three great knights of Gotham when we had come home from a long day of playing knight in the woods. He was a good soul, but when his parents were killed, it changed him…"

King Robert nodded, "Do you think he could be this _Batman_ figure we've heard so many tales of?"

Harvey shook his head, "No your Grace. He is crippled I have heard, and spends most days locked up in his castle. I hear he challenges even yourself in drinking and, well, _pleasing_, women."

The king threw his head back in a raucous laughter, "Oh that is good my boy! _Ah_ that is good! Perhaps I will have to invite him here to have a drinking duel with the crippled little lord! Tell me Dent, tell me true, do you think this Batman is a threat?"

"Well your Grace, he does not kill and hasn't involved himself with anything but Gotham's affairs since his advent a few months ago. I think we can sleep soundly at night."

"Good, good to hear. Well hopefully that will help from keeping Stark there for long. Having him here to run things makes my drunk, pussy induced nights all the easier to sleep through, _Haha!_"


	35. James 16: Bruce 20: Joker 7

_**James**_: Chapter 16

"Nigma for the final time, I do not have time for your damn puzzles!"

Edward Nigma smirked, "Oh but Ser, what good would a mind be if it were not tested on occasion?"

James was growing tired of his unwelcomed guest's games. "I have a damn crusader of the night, a cat burglar, and now the bloody Hand of the King in my city! I am tested well enough without your little riddles. Don't you have a man dressed as a bat to worry over?"

"Ahh yes the Batman, he is a most elusive puzzle, but come now Ser, my riddle is not terribly difficult in its nature. _The man that built it does not want it. The man that bought it does not need it. The man that needs it does not know it. _What is it? It truly is so simplistic a babe could deduce it Ser Gordon."

_Enough of your mocking tone you orange-haired fool. If I could arrest a man for speaking you would have been in chains your second day here. _"I do not know Nigma, now leave me be and go on with your investigation into Batman. Do let me know how it turns out."

"A grave, Ser Gordon. The man that built it is building it for another. The one who buys it does not need it, _yet_. The man who does need it does not know of course for he is dead! My word Ser Gordon, I am beginning to think you are no smarter than those you hunt," he replied with a wry smirk and a light chuckle.

"Nigma, if you do not leave these chambers within the next breath I will arrest you myself." Gordon tilted his head up from his desk to meet the stranger's mocking green eyes in a glare. This man was smart to be sure, but his incessant need to mock those he thought dumber than himself was growing tiresome. _He's a summer boy, never seen war or death, probably doesn't even know how to wield a blade. He's as green as his dressings._

James looked over Edward's dark green doublet and trousers, trimmed with black and perfectly neat and clean. James then looked down to his own garments; a dirtied and stained tunic with a faded leather belt at his waist and dark brown trousers with scuffed knees and a tear in the left leg. _The difference between a dog of Tywin Lannister and a dog of Gotham City._

Nigma laughed, "Very well Ser, I shall make my leave. Thank you for sharing with me the information you gathered from your meeting with Lord Wayne on the day past. It was most, _enlightening_."

The queer man left with a slight bounce in his step as James returned to his work. He sifted through the pieces of parchment on his desk hoping something would jump out at him and forgo its hiding place. He had read over these sheets for hours since they were placed on his desk a few nights ago, and it only made his eyes burn the longer he looked at them. They were the shipping manifests for the week the _Winding Serpent_ had been in port, the same ship that the Joker had ransacked. Batman had paid him a visit a few nights ago telling him of a secret crate that was on board at the time of Joker's raid. Since then the crate had been labeled _misplaced_. Neither Batman nor the captain knew what was on the ship, only that the smugglers had been paid a great deal of gold to assure its safe passage from Slaver's Bay.

_Whatever was in that crate, if Joker has it in his hands, may the Mother watch over us all._ After what had felt like hours of looking over the parchments, he heard light footsteps stop behind outside of the door to his solar. Without turning to face Edward he growled, "Nigma leave me be or I'll hang you from the rafters by your ankles until your face is as red as your lord's breastplate."

He was replied with an offended gasp and a smooth, soothing voice, "Well Ser Gordon, if this is how you treat women then you're as cold and unforgiving as the Wall. Also to mention, my lord of Highgarden prefers a fair green to Lannister's bloody crimson."

Sarah walked over and sat on his desk's corner as she looked into his eyes with a look of playful mocking. "Sarah, I uhh apologize for my tone. I-"

She laughed and swatted her hand, "It is fine James. The prideful little fool irritates us all to no end. Why, I heard your esteemed Harvey Bullock telling the men that at the first chance he gets, he'll send Nigma off in a little fisherman's boat nude as his birth and with no supplies. So I imagine your hanging him by his feet would be a rather gracious kindness. Have you been thinking over our visit with your, shall we say, _noble_, lord yesterday?"

James had spent a great deal of time thinking over his words with Lord Wayne, but was still as confused as he had been before. He remembered how nonchalant and comfortable the lord looked with an exotic beauty on his arm and glass of wine in his other hand that must cost more than what James earned in a month. _He certainly played the part, but he could also be throwing us off his trail. He did know we were there to see if he and Batman were the same. _

She waved her hand in front of his face to bring him back from his thoughts. He loved how white and delicate her fingers looked. "You were doing it again," she said with a beautiful smile that thinned her lips into a small pink half-moon.

"Sorry Sarah, I don't know what to make of our visit with Lord Wayne. He certainly played a convincing drunkard whore-monger. He was aware of our intentions from the beginning surprisingly. He is a…_complex_ man to be sure."

Sarah smirked, "Complex is one word for it. Arrogant, drunkard ass is another. Do you think a man would go that far just to protect his identity? Condemn his life beyond the cowl to a cane and within the walls of that castle up on that hill? Perhaps Batman doesn't even take a normal life. Perhaps he only stops being Batman to sleep in a cave with his clawed feet clinging to its roof." She laughed at her own jape, as she always did. _Her sense of humor is as wicked as her skills with a blade. _James smirked as he remembered their last sparring two days past, she had nearly won.

"I've seen men go farther and do worse things to protect a secret. I know not an ounce of this puzzle, and I wonder if I ever will."

"Well you are tasked with apprehending the Batman, Ser, and with the Lord Hand in your city I would wonder if you should not try a bit harder," she teased.

"It's my duty to arrest him should we catch him, but no one has ever caught him. Some men are still convinced he's only a myth. I will not waste my time or my men hunting a shadow. Should Nigma figure out the face behind the mask and deliver him to me on the steps with a bow, then I will gladly arrest him. _Ugh_, first Batman, then the Graysons' deaths, Catwoman, the Half-Mask, Joker, Lord Tywin, now Lord Eddard Stark? I fear I can't take too many more surprises in this city."

Sarah smiled and leaned closer. "Well see it this way James, at least you don't have to worry about dragons flying over us and reducing Gotham to smoldering ash."

James chuckled, "Yes, I suppose I should be grateful for that much in the least."

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 20

"So who knows of your secret?"

Bruce looked up from his plate to Lord Eddard sitting across from him. They were in the study, breaking their fast on eggs, bread and pork sausages. It was early morning, Lord Eddard had requested for his daughters to eat with Dick in the guest dining hall while they sat at the table in the center of Thomas Wayne's study.

"You, Alfred, Lucius, Prince Oberyn Martell-"

Eddard choked on his drink and replied sternly as milk dripped down his short beard, "The Red Viper knows? How?"

"He pieced it together just as you did. He is very aware of the feeling of having loved ones ripped from you, and the dark corners a man will seek out in the name of vengeance. He says his knowledge of warriors and ability to size a man up on the spot told him Batman and I were one in the same. Deathstroke was there the night his sister and niece were murdered by the Mountain. He wished me to serve Wilson up on a silver platter to him so he could have his revenge. The Joker had other plans as it were. He assures me he has no intention of ousting my secret."

Eddard wiped his chin with a cloth and thought over what he had heard. "Very well, who else? Does the boy?"

Bruce gave a nod. Eddard's face suddenly sharpened in anger, "That boy does not belong in your crusade. By him knowing you not only condemn yourself but him as well should this war of yours fail. I cannot stop you from this path of self-destruction but I will not allow you t-"

Now Bruce was the one to interrupt, "He chose this Ned. He was the same as I was that day you spoke with me at my parents' funeral. He was scared, angry, hurting, I did not force this life on him. He found the cave of his own free will. Dick saw what I was doing, what I was striving to achieve, and wanted a part in it. I am training him, he will only join me in the city when I deem him ready to. I knew if I did not allow him to study under me, that he would follow my footsteps down that dark path I took as a boy without parents. You must trust me Ned, I know what I am doing."

Ned took a few more bites of his meal before replying, "I have had too many men in my lifetime tell me that they knew what they were doing. I have seen too many men die with those words echoing in my head. If I were the boy's father I-"

Bruce cut the Lord Hand off once more, "You are not, and neither am I. If I were the boy's father I'd tell him to find a wife, start a family, just as my father would have. To live into my old years watching my sons and their sons grow and take over my duties and live in peace. That choice was open to the boy, but he chose to remain here. Just as I have told Alfred, I cannot be swayed in my resolve, and neither can Dick."

His guest remained quiet for a time, choosing to continue eating and drinking as he worked out his words in his head. _He is an incredible man, even breaking his fast his mere presence makes the hair on a man's neck stand in uneasiness. His presence is felt before it is seen. _

As Ned finished his breakfast he looked up to Bruce, "Are there any others who know?"

"No, but there are a few that suspect. Ser James Gordon of the City Watch, he was here yesterday just before dusk to question me. I had just seen him out when I entered the feasting hall to learn of your arrival. There is a whore in the city, Selina, she suspects me as well I believe. Then there is Lord Tywin's little hound, Edward Nigma. Gordon tells me he is here to find Batman's true face, and that despite the man's ability to irritate, he does seem intelligent."

"I will visit the City Watch tomorrow. I have need to speak with Ser Gordon over some matters as well. But there is something I need to speak with you about that is not related to your city or personal war."

"It has to do with you fearing for King Robert's life," Bruce stated plainly. "It was why you agreed to being Hand, so you could watch over your friend."

Ned nodded, "Yes. I fear the king is in danger, but from whom I do not know. As I wrote you, the capital is a den of spiders and liars. People that can do more harm with a single muttering of a phrase than Jaime Lannister could do with a sword. Lord Peter Baelish is as devious in nature as he is small in stature. Lord Varys has eyes and ears in every brick of the castle it would seem. And the queen…Cersei…"

"What of her?" Bruce had heard the queen was a beautiful sight to behold, but he had run into a fair enough share of beautiful dangers in his lifetime that he knew even without a cock women could be deadly.

"The only person I could see wanting Jon Arryn dead would be her. Catelyn however blames the Imp. She believes Tyrion tried to have my son killed with a hired knife."

"What of the knife? And what do you believe then?"

Ned sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration, "I do not know. The dagger was finely made, a rarity. I cannot see Tyrion Lannister, a man who prides himself on his wits, giving a common thug a blade with a dragon bone hilt to kill my son knowing it would lead directly back to him. No, he's far to cunning for that. I believe someone is trying to frame Tyrion, but I know not of who. If the Lannisters are involved, I would stake my life that Cersei is a part of it. I just don't know how it all relates. Why push my son from a tower window? Why kill Jon Arryn?"

Bruce stood from his seat, "I'm afraid I do not know Ned, but you have my word I will aid you in any way I can to shed light on the matter. So does this mean rather than coming to apprehend the Batman, you are requesting his assistance?"

Now Lord Eddard was the one to stand, "I was not here to apprehend you, merely see for myself how dangerous of a threat you are."

Bruce smiled, "And I think King Robert can sleep soundly at night, well at least without worry of me. I am no danger to him."

Ned looked sternly at Bruce with his cold, Northern eyes. "I never said he was the one you were a danger to Bruce."

_**Joker**_: Chapter 7

"No! No! No! NO! I did _not_ invite any wolves to this party! Why are their wolves at my party!?" Joker glared down on the poor soul that had dared bring him this news. Joker's chest was heaving from the shouting and the pale, frightened man before him was visibly shaking. Joker righted his frown into a wide smile and walked over to where the quivering coward stood in wait.

"Now, now my boy, don't fret! I know it is not _your_ fault the Starks are here, and that you didn't _want_ to deliver this news to me anymore than the next man would have."

The man's quivering lip strengthened into a small smile, "Truly, ser?"

"Of course!" Joker cheered as he patted the man on the back. A moment later he drove a knife into the man's neck as blood spurted out and coated the end of Joker's sleeve. He let the man's body fall to the ground with a loud _thud_ as Joker's smile faded back into a disappointed frown. "Mol, clean this mess up. Pilo, I want to know how long our unexpected guests plan on staying in our lovely city and what brings them here. _GO!_"

Joker sunk back into his chair and rubbed his temple. _Ugh, why do the bloody Starks need to be here? I cannot go ahead with my plans with the crown's bloody Hand in my city! It'll attract far too much attention._

His second inner voice spoke up. _Why don't we make use of them instead?_

Joker raised an eyebrow in curiosity and slowly bounced his head from left to right as he thought over the proposal. _What do you have in mind?_

_Hehehe why don't we kill the Hand? Show the rest of Westoros to fear us?_

Joker frowned, _No you bloody fool! Killing Stark would be the only thing that could remove Robert's fat ass from the Iron Throne and he'd be at our gates with an army in a fortnight…calling for our head…_

He put a hand to his neck and rubbed it to make sure it was still there. _My face is far too pleasing to the eye to be mounted on a spike…_

Now Joker's third inner voice spoke, the voice sounded like the Stranger's himself amongst the dark corners of his mind. _Killing Eddard Stark would be a grave mistake. If we are to best achieve our ends than we must not attract the attention of the whole of Westoros._

Joker blinked in surprised. _You agree with sparing him!? The one that wants to kill to solve everything!? And my apologies if I rain on your party, but I think we are already in the crown's sights after slaying all of those Lannister soldiers under Tywin._

_No. Killing those Lannister soldiers simply showed that even the most powerful of lords should not meddle in Gotham's affairs. Robert would not allow Tywin to invade Gotham simply to reclaim his honor. If we kill the wolf however, the king would be so enraged he would be willing to burn the city to the ground in search of us._

Now the second inner voice chimed in, _but we want Gotham to burn! Who cares who lights the first torch, so long as the city burns and we can laugh!_

Joker took a sip of wine from the flask on the table in front of him. _I agree with the dark, brooding one. We must be the ones to burn Gotham to the ground and only when we are ready! The chest gave us the first piece, but we still have far too much left to accomplish to spark the crown's curiosity now. _

Joker stood as the matter was laid to rest. _Damn nobles, always ruining my fun._

He strolled out into the large hall of their new living quarters. His men lined the walls in packs, gambling with dice and coins, drinking ale and singing cheerful songs, telling each other of past crimes or places they had been to.

Aces and Ajax were throwing knives at a wooden target when he came upon them. Three knives pierced into the center ring of the target while another three scattered around its middle and outer rings. "Aces you are just an _artist _with those knives of yours!"

Aces turned to face Joker and gave a fearful but sincere smile, "Thank you, ser. Trained every day for eight years in the circus I did."

Joker laughed and laid an arm around each of their shoulders, "Lads, you both have been very faithful in your service to my cause. Never questioning when I order a killing, never doubting when others simply call me mad, it is appreciated boys."

The two shot each other a frightened, apprehensive look before nodding and forcing a smile. "Th-thank you Joker, ser," Ajax said as sweat began spotting his brow.

Joker released them and strolled off towards the stairway to the tower at the northern end of the hall. He jumped up the steps with the giddiness of a boy. He burst through the wooden door to his chambers with a loud shove and moved to his bed. He laid himself flat on the ground and reached a hand underneath the feather mattress. The sound of wood scraping along stone echoed through the room as he slowly pulled the chest out from its hiding place. Joker stood and set the fair sized chest down upon the bed. Then he kneeled and unlocked the iron lock shaped like a dragon biting its tail. He placed a hand on each side and opened the chest. _Mmmm it's right before my eyes, I'm so close I can taste it! _

The white-faced murderer smiled in absolute delight_. Mother always was right. She always said 'Joker, damn the banks and keep what matters to you most underneath where you lay your head to bed each night. There one's treasure is always safe from the greedy eyes of man.' Hmmm I wonder if her skull's still under there somewhere. No matter…._

Joker reached into the chest and held up what he had grasped into the torchlight. It was a piece of silk faded and torn from years of aging. It was outlined in crimson with a white center and black figures sewn into it. There was an image of a sleeping dragon, a tall tower, a large boulder, and an image of a lion, wolf, stag, and dragon at a different end of the oddly shaped figure sewn into the cloth. A corner was missing with only torn and frayed ends of thread remaining.

_So closeee…._ Joker was interrupted as a pounding came at his door. "_Uhh_ Joker, ser, we have a problem."

_Imbeciles, can they not see that I'm basking in the light of my own grand invention?_

Joker tucked the silk back away in the chest and returned it to its place beneath his bed. He stomped to the door and opened it with a frown upon his lips. Aces and Ajax stood with a small boy between them, each clutching one of his shoulders. The boy was young. Messied, black hair shrouded the entirety of his face above the nose. Joker knelt and brushed it aside to see dark blue eyes glaring back at him. _A boy, glaring at me? Hooo someone isn't afraid to die._

"Who are you boy?"

The boy replied by snorting and spitting on Joker's face. Joker stayed where he was, ever-smiling, and wiped the unwelcomed wetness from his face. Ajax and Aces looked shocked, a mere boy spitting upon the infamous Joker as if he were a king looking down on a peasant.

"_Hee Heee _you're a little charmer aren't you. How old are you lad?"

Before the boy could spit again Joker put a purple-gloved hand over his mouth and leaned closer. _"Do that again boy, and I shall stab a fork through your tongue and rip it out for my supper,"_ he whispered into the fearless little fool's ear.

When he pulled back the boy's eyes had only widened slightly, and he slowly nodded in agreement. "Gooood lad. Now, name, age, and what you were doing here."

As Joker removed his hand from the boy's mouth, Ajax spoke up. "He was stealing from our food reserves in that abandoned old vault. He snuck in through a crack in the wall it looke-"

Joker interrupted, "Pray, tell me Ajax. Did you grow smaller and sprout a shock of black hair while you were at it?"

The brown haired thug looked up to his hair and back down to his leader confusedly. "I _uhh_, ser?"

"I asked for the _boy_ to answer. Are you him?"

Ajax mindlessly shook his head. "No, you are not. Now keep quiet or I'll have your tongue as well. Now speak, boy."

"Name's Jason Todd. I'm one-and-ten. I was hungry so I found the hole in the wall and helped myself to the food I found."

"Do you know who I am lad?"

"You're the Joker, the one that killed all those Lannister men."

"Aye, and yet you don't seem afraid. Do you not fear death, boy? I could kill you without a second thought. Fall asleep with a nice, big smile on my face."

"If you aimed to kill me you would have done it already. Plus I could take you, you're much scrawnier than the stories say," he replied without an inch of terror visible on his face.

_He's either brave beyond reason, or foolish beyond it. Either way, moxxy is always a pleasant sight to see._

"_HAHA!_ Well done lad. Good show, while I have yet to kill a child in this city I would kill you with great pleasure were you not touched with a stone of manhood. You've got a bigger pair than those two behind you if you get my meaning, _Hehe_. Ajax, let him go. Give him a sack of bread and cheese to see him on his way."

"Uh…ser?"

"_Did I stutter you mumbling fool!?"_

"No Joker ser, our apologies!" Aces cried turning pale white. Ajax's lip was quivering, his eyes growing wider. The young Jason stood as still as stone, defiantly making it a point to keep eye contact with Joker. _Ha, interesting lad, _Joker thought as the three of them turned and returned back down the stairwell. _He's lucky he caught me in such a chipper mood._


	36. Richard 14: James 17: Alfred 17

_**Richard**_: Chapter 14

Lord Eddard Stark looked as great and awe-inspiring in the flesh as he had been depicted in Alfred's stories, and the rumors and tales he had heard on the road in the circus. _His eyes, they look so cold, yet he doesn't seem a cold person. _

Lord Stark knelt and hugged his daughters, "Now mind Alfred's word and keep out of trouble. I'll only be gone a few hours and I expect my daughters to behave as the noble ladies they one day will become. So Arya, no fighting in the feasting hall with the Grayson boy." Eddard looked up from his daughters to meet Dick's gaze where he stood twenty paces from them and allowed a small smile. "Although I know swordplay can be tempting on a boring day to be sure," he finished as he stood. He turned and left the castle through the main doors as Alfred led them to the guest dining hall for their afternoon meal.

Arya rolled her peas around her plate's edge with her fork. She rested her head on her hand, looking as bored as she was unruly. Alfred had left them to fetch more water for their cups. Sansa was nibbling slowly and dutifully away at her meal. Dick however, was anxious. He felt as if he was chained to his seat by metal stronger than Valyrian steel. It was as if the seat of his chair was burning into his bottom, Dick needed to fly.

Bruce had ordered a pause to their training so long as the Starks were their guests. Dick had argued adamantly against the decision but Alfred and Bruce were the two bearers of the only keys to Thomas Wayne's study so it mattered not. _Yet he still gets to go out at night as Batman, that's fair._

Dick noticed he was sitting in a similar position to Arya, bored and leaning on his right hand. He had come to appreciate her company greatly. Dick could not remember the last time he had a child his age to play with or talk to. Being in Bruce's castle only made that more apparent as his only company for a majority of the time was Alfred. While Sansa was no doubt beautiful, Arya had a certain authenticity about her that Dick valued.

Nightwing jumped down from its perch atop Dick's seat to pick at the chicken he had left on the plate. Arya giggled and Sansa sat back in alarm. Arya took notice of her sister's reaction. "Sansa stop being such a prude. Dick, does he eat a lot?"

Dick smiled, "I suppose. He can glide now but still cannot fly. I feed him pieces of chicken and pork throughout the day. When he can fly though, he'll be able to catch his own meals. Mice and squirrels and snakes and such."

"But when he can fly, what will stop him from flying away?" Arya asked. Dick was taken aback, he had not thought of that before. He looked at Nightwing, as his eyes met the gaze of the dark brown orbs in the bird's skull. _If you take flight, will you come back?_

Dick was interrupted as the doors to the hall opened at the far end of the room, but Alfred was not the one to open them. Lucius Fox strode down the hall wearing a black silk doublet and his typical pearl-white smile. "Hello children, and how are your days thus far?" He called out as he neared where they sat.

He sat down beside Dick, opposite Sansa, and picked a chicken's leg from the boy's plate. Nightwing turned from the chicken breast it was pecking at to stare at Lucius. Lucius smiled apologetically at the bird, "Oh were you going to eat this? My apologies."

As Lucius bit into the meat, Dick turned to ask him a question. "Lucius what are you doing here? You never eat in the feasting hall."

Lucius laughed, "No I suppose I don't, but since our guests arrived Lord Wayne saw fit to give me a bit of a reprieve from my duties. _Mm_ this is some finely cooked bird. So tell me girls, how has your stay in our, _lovely_, city been?"

Sansa replied first, "Your city is beautiful ser. It is a most wondrous city, matching even King's Landing in how fair the landscape and structures are."

Lucius laughed so hard that he accidentally dropped the leg from his hand. "My dear, surely you do not speak of Gotham? The description you just gave me surely sounded that of some city built from jade, but surely not Gotham. Also m'lady, Gotham is not _my_ city. The place in which I come from is a cluster of shacks and tents and is poorer than even the lowest part of King's Landing."

Arya spoke up now, "I want to actually _see_ Gotham. We've been imprisoned in this castle up on the hill so far away from everything!"

Dick smiled, "I'll ask Bruce to see if he will let us go out to see the city. Tomorrow perhaps, I don't see why he would say no."

_It is too dangerous, criminals are everywhere, let alone the Joker is still out there, _Dick thought of the argument that Bruce would give. If Dick couldn't train to protect the city then at least going out to see it with Arya would be a welcomed experience. The castle was such a dull place and he needed to get out of it, if only for a few hours.

Lucius spoke, "Well I suppose Lord Wayne could allow it. I could always send some of our wall guard off with you for some added protection."

Alfred entered through the doors now, "Ah Lucius, what a surprise to see you joining us at the table."

The Summer Islander chuckled, "Well I was just leaving as it were. Dick, if you could join me for a moment."

Dick lifted his head in surprise at Lucius' request but followed him out the door with Nightwing on his shoulder. Lucius led him into a guest bedroom and turned on him once they were alone with a large smile and his hand behind his back.

"Are you ready for your surprise lad?"

Dick smirked, "What is it? Another outfit? New weapons? A cape of a different color?"

Lucius chuckled and shook his head. He slid his hand out from behind him with a black cloth grasped in his clenched hand. "Try it on."

Dick took the cloth and looked it over for a few minutes in confusion until he found two holes cut into it. He smiled and looked up to Lucius in gratitude as he lifted the cloth to his face. He lined the holes up with his eyes, the fabric stopping partway down his nose and just under his hairline. He tied it off in the back with a tight knot and turned to look at himself in the mirror. The lower half of his face was visible, and his hair flowed freely from his scalp, but the upper half of his face was now shrouded in black. _Just as Batman's is._

Lucius smiled, "I figured you had your garments, your armaments, your name, but you were missing that small piece of something more. The wall, that separates Richard Grayson, and Robin."

James: Chapter 17 

"Barbara, I…I'm doing everything I can. With your mother gone, that shack is filled with nothing but pain. It just reminds me of everything, I-I don't know how to deal with that. Maybe we should put it to the torch and find a new home?" James told his daughter only half in jest.

"Father, we cannot just leave the place. It hurts me to be there too, but I'm not ready to just give up. We need to keep going. What was it you always told me as a little girl? 'One foot in front of the other and before you know it you'll be where you were heading'?" Barbara replied with a smirk and a long stare of determination.

James smiled, _she will not quit this. _He rose and laid a hand on her shoulder, "You still are a little girl, even if but in my eyes only."

Barbara smiled and hugged her father. "We'll get through this father, just how we do with everything."

Before James could respond there was a knock at the door. Harvey Bullock entered slowly, surprised at Barbara's presence before stuttering, "Uh, Ser…there is a visitor."

"If it's Nigma again tell him that I-"

Harvey cut him off, "It isn't Nigma, Ser…"

A man rounded the corner into James' solar that made his jaw drop in shock. The stranger smiled and raised a hand, "My pardons, Ser Gordon, I did not mean to intrude upon your family time. I have daughters as well, I know how…large of a handful they can be at times."

James met gazes with the cold eyes of Lord Eddard Stark. "M-my lord, I was not expecting you. I had heard you had visited the city but surely was not-"

Lord Stark waved his hand in dismissal, "It is truly fine Ser, I had planned to visit yesterday but my girls were tired from all of the traveling they've been put through recently so we retired to Lord Wayne's castle for the night. If you are busy dealing with other matters currently I can always return later."

James shook his head, "No, no my lord. Now is suitable. Barbara I'll be home later for supper. Harv', give us a moment and see to it that my daughter makes it home safely."

"Aye Ser," he replied and followed Barbara out the door and closed it behind him.

"Would you like a chair my lord? Or something to drink?" James pulled out his chair from his desk and turned it to face the wintery lord. He nodded in appreciation and sat down as James pulled up a stool and sat facing Eddard. _He looks every bit the noble man he sounds in the stories. _James had never met Lord Stark, but had looked up to him as a symbol of duty and honor that was rare in this kingdom. James had always felt a certain kinship with the man, as they both were sworn by duty to serve and protect, but bound by morality to be fair and just. _Of all of the men I've met, I believe this man across from me could understand me best._

It appeared Lord Eddard agreed in the most part, "I am told that you are a very noble man, in a city that is said to be shrouded in selfishness and corruption."

"You are correct my lord, this city is tragically corrupt."

He winced his eyes and tilted his head, "Modest I can see, but if the city is so hopeless, why remain?"

James swallowed, mustering up his courage for what he was about to say next. "There you are in the wrong my lord. This city is not hopeless."

"Ah, so the city is plagued by darkness, but yet you see the light. Do you feel this light to be, this Batman, perhaps?"

"He is not the light, no, but I believe he plays his role in lighting the way." Batman had already done more for this city than James could recall any lord doing for them since the Waynes had died. Even the new, residing lord of the Waynes had done little since his return. James was not sure what to make of the Batman or whether he should be pursuing or helping him, but the masked stranger was clearly doing some _good_ for the city, and that was something James direly needed.

"When Lord Tywin was here, he wanted the Batman arrested. When he leaves, he sends his dogs here to do his bidding for him. Have you decided upon a course of action, Ser Gordon? Or what to do with this, Caped Crusader, running through your city at night?"

"Gotham has always tried to stay out of wars and struggles, as I am sure you know. When you and King Robert were battling the Mad King for the kingdom, we sent our men and swords, but we still remained…distant. As much as the crime says the opposite, we are a peaceful city. We are no Casterly Rock or Highgarden. The city does not get involved in the game of thrones or struggles for power. We stay here at our ports and farmlands letting the rest of the kingdom fight for their honor or lands. We accept all travelers, we give work to any capable hand, we just continue on as the world does. As such, we do not have many capable soldiers, and any bannermen to the Waynes were lost when the heir disappeared for a decade.

We are a crippled, vulnerable city. I see that plainly, I have no delusions. Hence why we cannot afford an enemy as powerful as Casterly Rock. If even half of their bannermen rode to these walls to take the city, they would have us within a fortnight. So during Lord Tywin's stay, I appeased him. Even now, I let his men claim Arkham Castle as their own to build whatever form of prison they hope to, so long as it is within reason. I let their dog, Edward Nigma, put his wet nose to the street stone in hopes of discovering the face behind Batman's mask. And I label Batman as a criminal that needs to be arrested because I know that he can take it. So yes, I follow Lord Tywin's orders to protect my people, just as I do as head of the City Watch everyday, but not for a moment do I let that affect my view of Batman or what he does for this city," James replied adamantly. After a few moments of silence, and his courage deflated, James panicked. _I just…I just snapped at the Lord Hand of Westoros as if he were a boy. How grand of a fool am I that-…_

James' inner thoughts were interrupted as Lord Stark chuckled. "Aye, you are every stone of the man I have been told you are. I know your city is in a state of upheaval, but I can rest assured that at least there is a man with a steady head at its front. While I do not fully agree with your city's isolation and hesitance to aid in causes such as our rebellion against the king, every lord has their own rules. Your city is…_odd_, to say the least. Most lords jump at the chance for glory or to put their lips to their ruling lord's ass. But when you spoke, you made the city sound as if it were, _alive."_

Lord Stark stared into James' eyes, two men standing tall amongst centuries of men choosing to turn away from the problems that plagued their homes. "That's because it _is_ alive my lord. I know it sounds mad, but this city always finds a way to defend itself. Whenever a man comes with leagues of soldiers at his back, the city finds a way to save itself. With Lord Tywin…I just didn't want to tempt fate."

Eddard nodded, "Very well Ser. Now tell me about this Batman. How you spoke, you sounded as if you knew him."

James sighed as he stood and poured himself a cup of ale. "The Batman made contact with me the night of the Graysons' deaths. The night Wayne was having his return feast and celebration. He wanted the name I found of the man who killed them. I gave it to him."

"You gave the name to a masked vigilante? Someone whom you'd just met, and had no idea who he truly was? Why?"

James looked out the window, slowly turning his wrist to swirl the ale in his cup. "I couldn't tell you now, I just felt, it was the _right_ thing to do at the time. I had a feeling in my gut that I could trust him."

"And how did that turn out?" the Northern lord asked suspiciously.

James sighed once more, "He broke both of the man's legs, crippled another four for life, and the remaining all needed to be tended to by healers for a month."

He turned back to face the lord in time to see his lips twitch into a wry smirk before returning to their previous thinned line. "So you trust the man, and then he returns your kindness with that. Has he spoken to you since?"

James decided to lie, "No, he's kept to himself since then. He went missing for more than a month, during Lord Tywin's stay here."

Eddard moved on, "Ah yes, Lord Tywin's visit. Tell me, why did he feel the need to come to Gotham? To help protect it?"

"I don't know my lord, but it mattered not. His stay was ended quick enough, despite whatever Lord Tywin had planned." James thought back to Borsan lifting his helmet to reveal that pale white face and blood red lips. James could still hear the Joker's laughter haunting his dreams at night. No matter whether it was a dream of Sarah or one of his days as a knight in Highgarden, that demonic _HAHAHA!_ could be heard echoing throughout his imaginings. It kept James from sleep on more than one occasion.

Lord Eddard waited a moment before replying, "Yes, the Joker. You've met him?"

"Yes…much to my dismay."

"Tell me about him." Lord Eddard shifted in his seat, the wood creaked as it adjusted with the man atop it.

"He wishes you to think he's mad, madder than Aerys was, but he isn't. He is touched with it I agree, but he is not swinging at spirits and speaking to voices in his own head. No, his mind works well enough, more than that. He's _smart_, he knows exactly what he's doing but wishes the rest of the world to think he's just some mad dog chasing and nipping at a bone just out of reach. This chaos he creates, no man can contain it, not even him. But the Joker has found a way to _direct _it. That is why I think this city, hell perhaps even all of Westoros, _needs_ the Batman. Joker is an unstoppable force that neither I nor my men can deal with, and Batman is the immovable object that is needed to combat it. He's the only one that stands a _chance_, if we can even call it that, of stopping this madman. Batman has not killed, he doesn't even wield a sword. He's not even a man."

Eddard cocked his head, "What do you mean, he isn't a man?"

"Men are petty, angry, corruptible. They can be torn down, shown to the world how small they truly are. Batman doesn't show his face, all he shows is that pointed helmet and the bat across his chest. He's a _symbol_, he has no face. He could be me, a baker, a sailor, one of my men, even a beggar. That's the _point_ of Batman, there is nowhere to target. Batman can target Joker, but Joker can't strike back at Batman. He has nothing to tear him down with."

The Lord Hand was slowly nodding his head as he took in what James was saying. "Because Batman could be anyone?"

"Yes," James returned firmly.

"So he has a target. Everyone," Lord Stark replied as coldly as winter in the North.

James didn't know how to respond to the statement, instead choosing to finish his ale as he turned back to the window. Lord Stark clearly could tell the weight the entire ordeal was having on James' mind as he stood and addressed James once more.

"If I were to speak plainly, and only to your ears. I would have done the same thing."

James turned around to face his visitor. "My lord?"

"I would have given Batman the name. I would have continued meeting him in secret as I'm sure you have done, despite what you said. I would trust my gut and trust Batman to know what is right to help me protect my home and my people," he said with a sudden care and warmth in his voice.

James once again was left speechless. "T-thank you, my lord."

Ned stood from his seat and adjusted his sword belt and cloak. "Now, I have heard that Lord Tywin sent some rather interesting, _guests,_ shall we say, to your city in his absence."

"Ah yes, Edward Nigma. He's most likely out about the city now but I could send word and summon him my lord."

"No, no. The other guest, this Hugo Strange. Your lord told me that he has taken up residence in an old, abandoned castle down in Gotham Bay. Arkham Castle is it not?" Eddard moved to the door and opened it swiftly as he stood in its entranceway.

James took up his swordbelt and scabbard from its place on his desk as he figured the lord's intentions. "No longer my lord, Strange has renamed it Arkham _Asylum_."

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 17

"What are they up to now?" Lucius asked as they sat on the balcony at the back of Wayne Castle, looking out towards the bay.

"Sansa is in her chambers sewing I believe, Arya and young Master Richard…trouble no doubt," Alfred said with the sincerest of smiles. He was grateful to see the young boy find a friend of his own age to play with. _They do make an odd, but rather amusing pair._ Seeing the foot prints inlaid in the dusty table top in the guest dining hall caused Alfred to break into a hearty laugh.

Lucius chuckled, "Ahh youth. Remember when we were lads with sticks playing knight?_ Ha! _The small trees and tall grass that did suffer my wrath…what was it that you fought Alfred?"

Alfred smiled, "My father, before he left to become the Waynes' servant. I remained in Dorne and took up arms for Prince Doran. My time _playing_ knight was short, granted I never fully became a knight."

Alfred remembered his father, the way his dark gray hair clung to his cheeks in thick sideburns. His longish nose, stern eyes, the faint scar on his neck from where a knife had once kissed it, it all was vivid in Alfred's memories.

"Due to your journey up here to serve the Waynes when your father passed?"

The Dornishman nodded, "Precisely."

"Do you ever miss it? The marching, talking with men that were like your brothers but bound by something stronger than blood, seeing such sights beyond a castle's walls or beyond the curve of the earth where sky kisses sea?" Lucius lost himself in his recollections as he looked out at the bay.

The sun was nearing the earth now, and while the sky was still a deep blue, the sea had grown dark orange as it reflected the sun's light. Gulls were flying about like flies above a corpse, fishermans' boats scattered across the water, and in the distance the island of Greenshield poked up from the sea like a rolling hill. The Shield Islands were a collection of four small isles guarding the mouth of the Mander River to the south for which they were named, but also effectively shielded Gotham from any raiders or dangers the open salt sea might bring. Lord Moribald Chester ruled over Greenshield, Alfred had never met the man but heard he was a pleasant enough ruler.

"Miss what? The death? The sight of blood, scent of rotting corpses, watching boys become men through bloodshed only to meet their own untimely demise? No, I do not miss a moment of it." On occasion, Alfred saw the faces of the men he had killed in his dreams, but usually his sleeping hours were barren and black.

Lucius took another sip from his drink, "I do miss the sea, but not much else of it. The women of the ports we visited were also a very pleasant sight if I do say. I think Bruce gives us our fair share of blood sight now anyways, _Haha!_"

Alfred slunk back into his chair and allowed his eyes to close. "Yes, he does indeed." Alfred's mind wandered to the conversation he had had with Lord Stark that morning. _If only Bruce had been older when they were taken. He would have been able to see the light in this world still. Age would have given him a different pair of eyes that brought a more trusting view of the world. _

He was pulled from his mental articulation as he heard Lucius address an unexpected guest. "Well good day m'lady, how are you?"

"I am well ser, thank you. I was wondering if I might join you, my chambers are awfully quiet and I would appreciate some company," Alfred heard Sansa Stark's soft, timid voice say.

Alfred opened his eyes immediately and stood to pull a chair up beside him for the young, future queen. She smiled and nodded in thanks before smoothing out her dress behind her and sitting. She was wearing a teal summer dress with a white strand of yarn running up its front, tightening it to her chest. Her auburn hair gracefully flowed before her, she truly did appear as a young queen in the making.

"What were you discussing sers? I am sorry if I have disrupted or ruined your conversation…" she apologized meekly.

Alfred spoke up now, "No, no my lady, you are fine. We are merely two old goats discussing our years of youth at war."

"Was war exciting? Fighting for honor and glory?" She asked enthusiastically. _Poor, poor girl. She still believes wars to be fought for men's pride. She has so much to learn of the world. _

Lucius chuckled, "Ah yes, Alfred how did that honor play out? You're a servant and I'm but a smith. Quite the high life we live, is it not?"

Sansa looked from Lucius to Alfred confusedly. Alfred smiled and attempted to alleviate her concerns. "My lady, war is as far from honorable and glorious as the Jade Sea is from the Iron Islands. There is nothing grand about men dying aimlessly on the battlefield."

"But they are dying for their king, or their liege lords. They are bringing honor to their name and houses," Sansa defended.

Lucius chimed in, "That may be, if they are foolish enough to believe it. But for the rest of us, men without lands, without titles, families, even houses, war is nothing but destruction. Ain't that the truth of it, my friend?"

Alfred sipped from his glass, "Lucius perhaps we should refrain from such, _honesty,_ in front of such royal company."

"Ah my pardons, m'lady, I did not mean to offend," the Summer Islander said as he took another drink.

"You did not offend ser, please, continue. Alfred, surely your house has a great deal of honor after serving House Wayne for so many years."

Alfred chuckled, "My lady, there is very little honor to be had in a house of servants. My father served Thomas Wayne and his father Patrick Wayne. My father's father served Kenneth Wayne before him. My _house_, if it is it be named as such, has no words, titles, or lands. Our last name, Pennyworth, springs from a jest five generations past that my family's worth could be equated to that of a copper penny. So, my ancestor Jarrick, having moved here with nothing but the shirt on his back and being the contemptuous man that he was, took it as his name. From that day forward he was Jarrick Pennyworth, and sired a family in Dorne that continued down the line to me."

"Do you have any family in Dorne, ser?"

"Not in Dorne, no."

"Where then, ser? A daughter? Parents?" She asked with a curious smile. _She will grow into a beautiful queen someday._

"A son, and I know not where. Last I saw of him he was sailing off on a ship to foreign lands, searching for purpose. That was a very long time ago…"

Sansa leaned forward in her chair in anticipation. "You have heard no word since? You don't know how he fares?"

"I have heard word yes, and he fares well. He has found his purpose, and has seen many a wondrous thing in this world. I only hope he is able to find happiness as well."

"Are you proud of him, Alfred?"

Alfred looked to the girl and stared into her vivid blue eyes and smiled. "Until the day I die, my lady." Sansa sat back in her chair contentedly, looking off into the distance as she thought over Alfred's fond recounting of his son. Lucius simply cracked a wide grin, understanding Alfred's true meaning, and finished off his drink.


	37. James 18: Bruce 21: Richard 15

**James**: Chapter 18

The stones of the city were a dark shade of orange as the sun kissed the hills wrapping around the Northern side of Gotham. The shadows grew longer with each passing street as the city slowly prepared for night to fall. The sounds of their horses' hooves against the stone echoed down the streets telling all criminals to be weary of their coming.

Lord Eddard had wished to see Arkham Asylum, and so James and eight of his men accompanied him as they crossed the city to Gotham Bay. With Joker still on the loose James found himself thinking he should have brought three times as many guards as he did, but their ride went uninterrupted.

Three men took up the front, James and Eddard at the center of the small procession, a man to each side of them, and the other three to the rear. They rode in silence, each of them looking up and down the streets, taking in their surroundings and judging how the city fared. James wondered what a person new to the city would think. How the sun lit the stone, reflected off of the glass, it almost made the city seem _serene_.

James remembered that was his first thought upon entering the city's walls for the first time. Seeing how beautiful the city was by day was enough to make him doubt the stories he had heard of how monstrous it was by night. _The hardest lesson to be learned in this city, its true nature._

Lord Eddard's horse came to a stop for a moment as Arkham Castle, _Asylum, _James corrected, came into sight. On a round island out in the bay, the fortress stood tall and pierced into the sky. It had a thick wall along its perimeter with only a single bridge stretching out to it from the mainland. Tall, pointed spires reached up with black, shingled roofs and long needle tops. Arches shaped like spider webs supported and connected the walls and turrets. It looked more dark and foreboding than even Wayne Castle. The city wall loomed in the background. This section of the bay was the only one where the wall curved out into saltwater while the rest of the ports and beach had been left beyond its stone defenses.

As they continued on down the hill, the buildings lining the street lessened, then dwindled, until only abandoned shacks and decimated steads remained. This was the eastern most end of the Narrows, a place even the criminals and scum of Gotham rarely dare set foot. Rumors of the spirits that haunted their horrid destination were enough to make even the most blood thirsting of murderers flee. The only souls that remained in this desolate corner of the city were the poorest beggars to be found. They found shelter amidst the broken, crumbling structures surrounding the entrance to Arkham. High up on the opposite hill stood the former Alchemist's Guildhall, another catacomb for nothing but spirits and beggars.

They reined their horses and turned to face the ghastly castle. Eight Lannister guards clad in their crimson armor stood with lances upright, guarded the wrought iron gates to the bridge. Two appeared to be leaning on their spears, tired from hours of standing. Upon hearing the hoof beats they righted themselves and stood at attention. Lord Stark spoke, "Let us pass."

He was replied with the fools running to either side of the gate, pulling it open for them. Their party proceeded down the narrow bridge, only wide enough for four riders abreast. As they neared the castle's high walls a second pair of thick, wrought iron doors slowly swung back, allowing them entry. As they entered beneath the entranceway, James gazed upwards to see the grated iron blocks of death doors lining the roof of the passage. As they dismounted, the dark oak doors of the castle opened and a single man stepped out to approach them.

Hugo Strange looked oddly the exact same as he had the last time James had laid eyes on him. His beard was still the same length, neatly cut and shaved so none of the grey hair clung to his upper lip. His gait was the same slow, cautious step it had been previously. His eyes darted around erratically, encompassing their little group before pausing on Lord Eddard. Hugo allowed his stare to rest on the Lord Hand for a few moments before he looked away and met eyes with James.

"Ah Ser Gordon, I had not been expecting you. Welcome, welcome to the newly spawned _Arkham Asylum._ And the noble Lord Eddard Stark, what a welcomed sight you are, my lord. You are here to see my progress and what plans I have for this castle are you not?" He reproached with a wide smile.

Lord Eddard stepped forward. "Yes, to put the matter bluntly. Do you hold any quarrels with that, ser?"

Hugo's smile grew even wider, "None at all my lord. Come, allow me to show you what I have been laboring so tirelessly over."

The man turned and led James and his party through the doorway and into the castle. James' nose was immediately greeted with the smell of dust and smoke. The halls were lit with wall mounted torches in the shapes of screaming faces and dragon heads. As they proceeded down the corridor, the sound of hammers against steel echoed louder with each step. Hugo turned and led them into a large hall.

Banners with golden lions and stags lined the walls of the hall as men scurried around beneath them wearing either crimson armor or no dressings upon their chest at all. Broad chested smiths slaved over fires and anvils, hammering out swords, spearheads or iron bars. Lannister soldiers sparred along the hall or supped at one of the long wooden tables at its southernmost end. Women scurried about the long room in serving wools and dressings carrying water or food to the tables and men.

"What is all of this?" James asked their host.

Without turning to face them Hugo stared out at his work and raised his hands into the air. "A new age, Ser Gordon. No longer will criminals end with a noose around their neck or an axe through it. Here they will be given sanctuary. A place for us to observe why these men choose evil over good, and whether such men can be saved at all. Needlessly killing such men is not the answer, we must see _why_ they do what they do. That, is the only way to end this cycle and save the kingdom from itself."

_He sounds half mad._ "And how are we to be sure that this will yield anything of value? What makes you so unwavering in your skills that you can accomplish this mountain you lay before yourself? How will you control so many criminals?" Eddard asked.

Hugo continued on through the hall, not waiting for them to keep pace as he shouted out behind him. "What I am lacking in power or wealth I surely make up for in strength of mind my lord. My lord, Tywin Lannister, provides the gold needed, and has even sent another century of men to assist in providing protection. However, we will not be taking any plain criminal off the streets. Only the most ambiguous, the worst of the lot, the cruelest rapers, cleverest thieves, maddest killers, all of them will find a home here. Within the walls of my Asylum they will find refuge as we study them like a predator does its prey. In order to save your city, Ser Gordon, we must truly understand the enemy."

"And would this enemy be the man that killed two of my men this week past? Or the Batman, I wonder?" James replied in a short tempered shout.

To this Hugo finally turned as they reached the opposite end of the hall. "No, no Ser, you misunderstand me. Batman is as similar to the criminals that will be housed here as this joyous summer is to the inevitable winter. _He_ is a man of a different breed Ser, and he is whom I look forward to observing most." Hugo turned and lead them leftward out of the hall.

"What pushes a man to do what the Batman does? What sparks the fire in his soul to make him dedicate his life to such a crusade? Masking his face, striking out in the night, it is all so, _unheard of_," Hugo continued as they took another turn.

_This place seems more a maze than a castle._ "The way you speak of him, the Batman, it sounds more akin to admiration than persecution. Are you truly your lord's man, I wonder?" Lord Stark taunted.

Hugo chuckled, "Yes Lord Stark. I serve my lord most faithfully, but even one's enemies must be held with respect and recognition when deserved. Batman is such a rare sight in this world, someone so _selfless_ in a world of greed and selfishness. Even a man as clever as the Joker must be held with a certain mind of respect, as it is with all dangerous men."

James' eyes widened in anger as he charged Strange, grabbed him by the shoulder and forcefully turned him round to face him. "The Joker is not a _man_, he is a _monster_."

Hugo merely replied with a thin lipped smile, "Even monsters such as dragons and krakens deserve respect, Ser. A monster in a man's skin is no different."

He held a hand out to his right, gesturing to the row of cells following down the remainder of the corridor. "This is merely one of our many halls suited for our prisoners. We will have guards posted at each end, with meals twice a day. Women I have chosen myself will aid me in counseling the prisoners to judge how mad or sane they are and whether there is any spark of good left in their souls. Ah, wonderful timing."

A woman rounded the corner hurriedly as she took notice of the group and joined. She was young, no more than twenty James figured, and had a slender figure. She had a comely face with large teal eyes and a wide grin on her face. Her head was covered in bright blonde hair that appeared almost golden, even in the dimly-lit corridor. She was wearing a simple white maiden dress with delicate white gloves and cotton leggings.

"Why women?" James asked.

Hugo chuckled lightly, "Would you care to answer that Harleen?"

She smiled and nodded, "A woman's touch is more delicate than that of a brutish man's."

Hugo chuckled once more, "Very good my dear, you may continue on to your duties."

She nodded and continued off down the hall.

"Well my lord, is there anything else troubling your mind or has what you've seen proven acceptable?" Hugo asked.

Lord Eddard nodded, "I've seen enough, for now. Should I have any further issues I will return."

Hugo bowed, "You are always welcome, my lord."

He led them out and bowed once more before returning back to within his melancholy stronghold. James and his men mounted and rode back across the bridge up into Gotham. After a few minutes of riding up the hill and watching the streets and buildings grow more lively and populated, Eddard leaned in to James and spoke.

"Whatever his intentions are, so long as he remains under that lion banner he cannot be trusted."

James smirked, "I am far ahead of you my lord."

* * *

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 21

"So they only wish to keep the _interesting_ criminals?"

Ned nodded, "Yes, Strange sounded very particular in his taste for deviants. What he intends to do with them, he merely said that he would study them. He seemed keenly interested in you."

Bruce thinly smiled, "So I've been told." Bruce had known that Hugo Strange had his eyes set on the Batman in particular, but with him bringing more Lannister soldiers and armaments to Arkham Castle, Bruce was growing more worried.

He thought a moment before continuing. "Are they well-fortified?"

"They have about a century of Lannister men, at least another in sell swords, only one bridge for entry and departure protected by an iron bar gate. The entrance from the bridge to the castle however is far more treacherous. Murder holes, large iron doors, thick portcullis, a great deal of length on the battlements for archers. Should Hugo decide to act upon any ill intent he may be hiding, he will do so from a rather secure place."

"Should Hugo act, I will stop him."

Ned shook his head in frustration. "Oh come now Bruce, you should be beyond this arrogance. You alone cannot take that fortress, even if you make it inside. He surely has more men coming, you'll need help. Ser Gordon was telling me of his plight on our ride back from the gloomy place. He tells me his Watch is only six centuries strong, a fact that makes his duty difficult, even more so than it needs to be. He needs more men Bruce, he needs more gold. King's Landing has a City Watch of six thousand men, and the crime rate there is two thirds what it is here at best, closer to half I imagine. Gordon has but a tenth of that number."

Bruce stood, and went back to the wooden sparring dummy standing ten paces away. Ned had interrupted his training when he had returned from his day with Gordon. Bruce's chest, back and brow were coated in sweat by the time the wintery lord arrived and walked down the carved stone pathway to the cave floor. His gait was urgent so Bruce thought it best to stop to hear what his guest had to say. Now that he had heard enough, Bruce decided it was best to continue training. Ned clearly took note of what Bruce was doing and moved to stand beside the wooden torso and head. It had arms nailed on at angles as if it were trying to give its assaulter a hug.

"I know he does, but what else can I do? Throw more gold at him so he can afford to take on more men?" Bruce asked in between successions of rapid blows to the large doll's head and chest. _Fractured skull, three broken ribs on the right, two to the left, splintered elbow, dislocated jaw, shattered nose, _he repeated in his mind with each blow from his fists or elbows.

Ned took a pause between volleys to step in between Bruce and his target. "Yes. If you will not share your knowledge with him and his men, the least you can do is help him to find more. If you will not fulfill your lordly duties as Bruce Wayne to the city, then the very least you can do is give gold so that the City Watch is better equipped to help keep the smallfolk safe. That's the problem with not fulfilling your lordly duties Bruce, you miss the true plight of the people."

Bruce's hands tensed into fists as he growled, "Do _not _tell me I miss what ails my people. That is why I became Batman, to help _them_! To avenge my parent's spirits! To save the soul of my city and those whom live in it. Be cautious with your words my friend."

Ned smirked, "Is that a threat, _boy_?"

Bruce smiled angrily in return, "No, my lord, merely a cautious yarn of advice. I am well aware the struggles my city has suffered through with no end in sight. Batman will bring about an end to it."

The daunting man before him snorted in either amusement or disapproval. _Knowing Ned, both._ "Your arrogance, boy, it will be the end of you. You are not _enough!_ Whatever planning you have in your skull will not be enough to save this city from itself. You need _help!_ More than two old men and a boy can give you. You need the strength of the city at your back to help you. You _left _them to suffer to their own ends for fourteen years Bruce. Did you think you would return and bring this city back up by yourself? If you did, then I will name you a fool until the day this war of yours puts you in an early grave. You left them with a defense of city guardsmen that dwindled from four thousand to numbers in the hundreds, any lords that remained loyal your father abandoned you, and your city _moved on_.

Bruce, there is a _war _on the horizon. I can feel it in my bones. And if I fail in holding this war off, your city will be reduced to a smoldering ash under Lord Tywin's armies. For the offenses to his honor you and that mad clown gave him, he'll send that mad dog of his Clegane to your front door. The Mountain and his men will rape your women, burn your ships, and upturn every last stone in this city until they find where the Joker hides, and you as well. You need to _grow up_ Bruce, and start thinking like more than just a man, but a _lord_. With no forces, how can you hope to save this city should Tywin or another lord decide to attack?"

Bruce's lips tensed, his arms flexed. Ned's words, as true as they were, wounded Bruce and his pride deeply. Ned smirked, "Do you have swords in this dark, dusty place?"

Bruce smiled as he understood Ned's meaning and turned. He paced over to Lucius' corner of the cave and pulled out two dulled sparring swords from a barrel. As he returned to where Ned stood he tossed a blade, to which the Lord Hand caught it and began spinning it at his wrist like a master. "When I was younger, still had fire in my blood and clouds in my head, I always found sparring a good way to release my boiling blood. So come Bruce, let us see if you're as good with a sword as you are with your fists."

Bruce said nothing, but gave the Lord of Winterfell his wish and came at him with a horizontal slash. Ned chuckled and deflected the blow with a speed that should have been absent in his aging years. They crossed blows back and forth for a few minutes as Bruce made each passing blow harder and quicker. Ned did not falter however, and managed to keep Bruce's pace until his back was at the edge of the stone island they were standing on. Ned's heel hit the edge as he heard the pebbles drop and fall into the water a few feet below. The water was only a foot or so deep, but Ned had no intentions of falling in and letting his young foe make a fool of him.

As Bruce lunged forward, Ned stepped to the side with an impressive amount of speed and laid a gloved hand on Bruce's sword. He jerked it forward and swung his blade down behind Bruce's legs as he was caught off balance. Bruce tripped and stumbled into the pool of water before him. As his head came back up for air, Ned chuckled, "I wager that's the first bath you've had in a week." Rather than offering his fallen adversary a hand, he turned and moved to sit at the table on an adjoining stone island. He poured himself a glass of wine and waited for a soaked Bruce to follow him to the table.

Bruce sat down opposite him and took a second glass of wine that Ned offered. "I'm afraid I haven't been wholly honest with you Ned."

Ned's brow piqued, "Oh?"

Bruce took a long swig before continuing. "The last time I fought a man with a sword was nearly four years ago. My former mentor, we fought outside of his palace."

"And did you win?"

Bruce swallowed, "I killed him, and a majority of his men. I burned them with wildfire, him with my sword through his chest."

Ned's eyes widened, "So you have killed before. Well I suppose that should be considered you winning. Why kill him?"

"His name was Rha's Al Ghul, and he was the leader of the League of Shadows." Bruce spent the next half hour detailing his years under the tutelage of the late Al Ghul, his attempted murder of Danerys Targaryen, and his inevitable discovery of his mentor's treachery and ultimate end. Bruce also spoke of his lost love, Talia, and how they grew closer than any person Bruce had ever come in contact with. When he had finished, Ned had exhausted the bottle of wine, and stared intently at the floor between his feet.

"So if you had not killed this Rha's Al Ghul, he would have brought Westoros to its knees. Along with ending the Targaryen girl's life, and the gods know what else. This League of Shadows, there are brothers everywhere you say? Even King's Landing? Winterfell?"

Bruce nodded, "Even here, although I cannot speak for Winterfell. He was preparing for something, I know not what. Talia though…she leads them now. Her hatred for me I'm sure has boiled over the years. They are still out there, poised to strike whenever ready."

Ned brought his hand to his face and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "First the Lannisters, Robert, then my son, the Targaryen girl, and now this. Perhaps I was as arrogant as you were, thinking I could find a way to save the kingdom from all that stood ready to tear it apart. How foolish I have been."

* * *

**Richard**: Chapter 15

"Race you!"

"Oh that's cheating!" Arya Stark called out behind Dick as he sprinted ahead of her. As Alfred opened the front doors of the castle Dick leapt from the entranceway to the cobblestone path, skipping the five stuttered steps.

Dick turned his head and shouted out over his shoulder, "Well then you'd best learn to run faster since I didn't play fair!"

He reached the open carriage, placed his hands on the top of its railing, and hurdled over it and onto its red leather seat. Arya caught up after a few moments but used the door to gain entrance and sat down opposite him with a frown. "You cheated."

Dick only replied with a wide grin. He turned his gaze to the castle's doors as Sansa and Lord Stark left the entranceway followed by a limping Bruce Wayne. Eddard offered his hand to help his daughter into the carriage, her dress swaying behind her. It was another summer dress, this one was a light gray with golden inlay. The Lord Hand wore a silver doublet with his sigil on its right breast, clean pressed breeches, and a belt and sword at his waist. Bruce was wearing his standard black doublet with his golden bat, a dark oak cane clenched in his hand. When they were all seated the carriage lurched forward as the horses began their descent down the hill to Gotham.

"The last time Dick and I went on a ride such as this, we brought back a crippled bird for Alfred to treat. Hopefully this time we don't find any wounded animals or soon our castle will have more beast occupants than men!" Bruce jested with a chuckle. Sansa and Arya both looked downward with a sorrowful expression on their faces. Arya had told Dick much about her dire wolf Nymeria and what had transpired at the inn along the Kingsroad where she had to chase her off and how Sansa's direwolf was killed in her place. Arya told Dick that Sansa hated her for that, but was glad that Nymeria was not punished for merely protecting her. Dick knew nothing about Prince Joffrey, but he sounded far from pleasant from Arya's description. _How can Sansa love a person like him?_ Dick didn't understand girls, and probably never would he figured.

In turn, Dick had told Arya many of his tales from his years in Haley's Circus. Of the fire breathers, the zorses and lions, the jugglers and pole walkers, even his parents and their rope dancing. It made him realize how much he missed it all. _No, Richard Grayson of the Flying Graysons is gone from his world, only Robin remains._

Bruce quickly changed topics as he turned to Arya. "So Arya, your lordfather tells me you're taking dancing lessons?"

Arya politely smiled and nodded. "Yes my lord, they are most helpful."

For the rest of their ride Bruce recollected stories of his own parents dancing lessons that Alfred had told him. Ned told him a story of his father and him going on a hunting trip in their youth and how the sight of blood made a young Thomas grow dizzy and sick to his stomach. "_Ha! _That was my friend Thomas, hated to see anything die let alone so much as leak a drop of blood," Ned finished.

They had reached the edge of the main city square in the heart of the city as Ned and Bruce's chuckling died out. The square was alive with the bustling of smallfolk hurrying from one group or shop to the next. The smell of freshly baked bread, blooming flowers from the florist, spices and herbs from the street merchants returned from the east, it all flooded Dick's nose. They all dismounted from the carriage and grouped together as Bruce spoke. "So what would you care to see first my ladies? The baker's right over there? Or perhaps we can see what exotic rarities the traders have brought off of their ships?"

Before the girls could reply a crossbow bolt caught Bruce in the center of his shoulder with enough force to make him fly back a few steps and land to the ground with a loud _thud_. Before Lord Eddard could draw his sword they were upon them. There were eight of them, two with crossbows and the rest with swords and daggers in hand. The most frightening aspect of their attackers however, was their white painted faces with smeared crimson lips. _Joker._

"I wouldn't do that if I were you m'lord," one of the scrawnier ones with the crossbow taunted as he saw Ned's hand reach for his sword. Lord Eddard grunted and let his hand fall to his side. The thin man smiled in gratitude, showing off his broken teeth. He had a thin nose to match his body, with a shock of dirty brown hair on his scalp. He gestured to the two largest thugs with a shrug of his head.

The two that moved were each taller than even Bruce. One had a scar across his forehead that even the paint could not hide. They stepped in between the Lord Hand and his daughters and each grabbed Arya roughly by the shoulders. Ned stepped forward before a crossbow bolt went flying into the carriage only a foot to his right. Dick tensed and leaned forward. The scrawny man took note of this and laughed, "I'd stay where you are lad. No heroes will be made here."

By this point the crowd had noticed and were screaming and running in opposite directions. Even the mention of the Joker's name was enough to make men's' spines melt. Seeing some of his men would warrant no less of a reaction than fleeing in the people of Gotham. No City Watchmen appeared to be present in the square, but they would be here within a minute or two at the most with this much chaos. The bony man seemed aware of this fact.

"Let's get on with it. _Move!_" Before they could follow orders however, Arya kicked a man in the groin before biting her teeth violently into one of her assaulters. They both cried out in agony as she wriggled to get free. The gaunt leader hit her in the back of the head with the butt of his crossbow making her fall limp. Ned took another step forward with a look of death in his eyes before the man drew his crossbow back up making him freeze his advance. They withdrew back into the alley from which they came. The two crossbowmen kept their sights on Ned for a few moments longer as the rest ducked behind the corner and out of sight. As they lifted their weapons and ran, Ned drew his sword and charged after them. He reached the end of the alley and looked around in disbelief. After a moment of hesitation he continued on down the alley that the thugs used to escape. _No, not her, this can't be happening._ He turned and saw Sansa frozen in terror, tears streaming down her face. Then, Dick turned down to look on the injured Bruce.

The man's eyes were glaring down the alley the thugs and Ned had just run down. His arm was propping his body up. His face was unmoving, a frigid wall of unemotional ice. His lip was taught into a thin line of pain as his other hand was pulling the bolt from his shoulder. As he wrenched it free, he grunted in pain and tossed it to the ground. He looked up to Dick with a look he had never seen in Bruce's eyes. _Those are not the eyes of Bruce Wayne, those are the eyes of Batman._


	38. Bruce 22: James 19: Richard 16

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 22

"Alfred, escort Lady Sansa to her chambers."

As usual, his servant felt the need to speak before following orders. "But Master Bruce, your arm." Bruce limped past him as quickly as his feigned gait allowed. "It's fine Alfred. Sansa to her chambers. Now."

_I'm sorry old friend, but this matter is too urgent to take the time to explain. _Bruce turned the corner and disappeared out of Alfred and Sansa's sight. Dick and Eddard followed closely behind him. Once he was assuredly out of Sansa's gaze, he sprinted to his father's study and flung open the doors. He ran to the bookshelf, pulled the correct book, and darted through the hidden entrance as soon as the shelf had slid enough to allow his body through. After sliding down the ladder, Bruce sprinted down the rest of the stone path to the cave.

Lucius's head perked up from his smith's corner and watched Bruce run down to his wardrobe before tearing open its doors. Dick followed not too far behind his mentor, with Eddard keeping pace a few feet behind the boy. As Bruce stripped off his doublet and breeches Lucius took notice of Bruce's bloodied shoulder. He called out from his corner, "Bruce, pause a moment if you would."

"No time Lucius, Arya has been kidnapped by the Joker. In that madman's hands, she won't last terribly long."

Lucius grabbed a small box from his desk and ran over to where Bruce stood fastening his greaves to his feet. He opened the box and dipped two fingers in before rubbing them on the wound where Bruce had torn the crossbow bolt out. The creamy substance felt cool at first, before burning terribly within a few moments. Bruce's determination overpowered the pain, as he continued his dressing without hesitation. As he turned to fasten his gauntlets to his wrist, he noticed Dick pulling his red boiled leather vest over his head.

"No Dick, not this night."

Dick grunted in anger. "_She's my friend!_ You've trained me for near two months! You need my help, I'm ready!"

Bruce reached for his helmet staring back at him from within his wardrobe. "Our agreement was that you only join me in the city when I deem you ready. The Joker is not someone I want you going up against on your first night as Robin. Stay."

Now Ned spoke, "Aye boy, stay here. You'll get your chance I promise you."

Bruce donned his helmet and turned to the Lord Hand. "You're to stay too Ned."

He wheeled on Bruce, glaring. "_I_ am not some boy for you to command Bruce. That is my daughter out there and you are the best chance I have to find her. I'm going with you!"

Bruce shook his head as he quickly stepped to his horse. "No, Eddard Stark riding into the city beside Batman? It will oust me as Bruce Wayne alongside making yourself seem an outlaw. You must stay."

Ned growled angrily, "_I don't give a damn about your secret!_ My daughter is out there and I am coming with you to bring her home. You cannot fight this Joker on your own, you'll need my sword."

Bruce mounted his horse and turned it to the entrance beneath the waterfall. The water pounding against the stone always dimly echoed throughout the cave, adding a certain sense of life to the dim place. "The Joker is not some standard outlaw or killer, he is a _madman_. The likes of which Westoros is not prepared to face. I have dealt with him before, you have not. Stay here Ned, I promise you on the graves of my parents I will bring your daughter home." Before Ned could reply Bruce kicked his heels into his mount and spurred it forward. He road through the sprinkling water that bounced off of the stone beneath the falls. Bruce followed the pathway out and on towards the city.

The sun had just ducked beneath the horizon to the west, the sky still alight with orange and yellow, the stars just coming into sight. _Joker, if you so much as cut a single hair on her head I will make you beg to whatever god you've always denied for an end to your miserable life._ He kicked his horse once more as they sped on from the woods to the grassy fields to the city streets. He turned through the alleys and streets with the smoothness of a serpent. Frightened smallfolk stared on in awe or jumped out of the way as he sped by. He heard them call out, "It's the Dark Knight!" "He looks like a blur of shadows!" "Thank you, Batman!"

As he rode on into the heart of the city, he neared his destination. Bruce saw the yellow flag hanging from her window and knew he had come to the right place. He reared up in front of the old baker's stead, dismounted, and then banged on the door. She answered the door with more speed than expected, a distrusting and contemptuous look apparent on her face. "Where?"

Selina smirked, "And what makes you think I know anything on the matter? I haven't ventured out to thieve in two whole nights."

"_WHERE!_" Bruce did not have time for her coy games. Every moment he spent trying to find Arya was another she spent in Joker's hands.

"The thugs were spotted at one of the abandoned steads down near Arkham. There were at least twenty, or so I hear. They've been holed up there for the past hour or so. Gordon's preventing his men from storming the place for fear the clown might kill the little wolf girl. You think you can fight them all and save her?" There was the slightest sliver of care in the tone of her voice.

Bruce wordlessly turned and mounted his horse. He looked back to Selina for a parting second. "If I can't, there is not a stone in this city or the seven kingdoms that Joker can use to hide from me." With that, he left Selina alone at her doorway as he charged on towards the Northwestern corner of Gotham, where Arkham Asylum and the abandoned section of the city lay in wait. Bruce's mind was burning, his muscles tensed, his teeth gritted, his eyes glaring straight ahead.

He reached the abandoned portion of Gotham within half an hour, a ride that usually would have taken twice that on horseback even at a trot. It did not take long to find the building that Selina spoke of. The structure in question was a four story wooden shack with mold and moss growing on its outer face. The doors and windows were all boarded up with fresher looking planks. It appeared to be an old tavern, abandoned for at least twenty years. It was a rather larger shelter, and stood apart from the rest of the abandoned apartments around it. The closest buildings stood more than fifty paces away. Clusters of city watchmen stood a dozen paces away from the building, with a ring of curious smallfolk looking on, doubtlessly hoping for bloodshed.

_I won't be able to get near the place without being arrested. _Bruce slowed his horse and tied it off in a side alley a few streets away. He ran to the nearest of the buildings in the ring of structures surrounding the open space of mud and cityfolk looking on at the abandoned inn the Joker's men were held up in. Bruce broke in through a window at the building's rear, frightening a handful of homeless smallfolk looking on at the spectacle outside through a frontward facing hole in the wall. He sprinted up the stairs to the roof of the three story shack and felt the cool night air rush over him. Gazing out at the expanse of open air between him and the inn, Bruce reached to his belt and readied his grappling shot. He attached the backward facing bolt and fired. The rear bolt punched into the wall of another building behind him, the forward facing bolthead pierced into the wooden wall of the inn. _May whatever gods that watch over me help it hold._

Bruce climbed onto the metal wire and slowly walked across the line to the inn. Cityfolk beneath gasped and shouted in awe and surprise as their hidden protector of the night made his way to save the day once more. He heard city watchmen shout beneath him, but could not make out their words amongst the muddled noise coming from the crowd below. As Bruce reached the inn he leapt through the nearest boarded up window. Crashing through the wood and landing in a roll, he sprinted forward and up the stairs to the fourth floor.

"_Joker! Come out from your hiding place or I swear I'll tear your limbs from your shoulders!"_

He was replied with nothing but the muffled noises from the crowd outside. He searched the rooms of the floor hurriedly, finding nothing but dust and a few spiders and rats. As he returned from the final room of the floor with no signs of their presence, the floorboards beneath him creaked with a loud shriek and gave way under his weight. He crashed through the floor and that of the third story before landing on the second in a mass of wooden beams and splinters. His ankle suddenly ignited with pain as a thick beam fell onto it. Bruce pushed it off and struggled to stand. He looked around, seeing no more foot prints in the dust coating the floor and proceeded to limp down the stairs to the bottom floor. Immediately upon reaching it he saw the flood of footprints in the dust from where the men had entered and turned into the room to the right. Bruce followed the path until he found a handful of floorboards ripped up and a hole in the wooden floor. An iron door in the ground stood out from the center of the hole, it appeared to be at least three inches thick. _This is losing more semblance of sense with each passing minute._

Bruce tried lifting the hatch to the iron door but found it securely stuck in place. _Covering their escape path no doubt, bast_- Before Bruce could finish his thoughts he suddenly smelled something he had neglected before. _Oil._ As he turned around to see the walls streaked with drying patches of oil, he heard a call from outside.

"Alright men, light it up!_" _Moments later he heard the sound of sticks colliding against the outer walls of the abandoned inn. Bright light shone in from the cracks in the planks over the windows, dancing upon the floor. _Fire, they intended to burn me and the Joker to the ground._ The fire engulfed the rotted outer surface of the building at a much more rapid pace than Bruce had expected. It was already starting to breath in through the gaps and holes in the boards like hungry little fingers. Bruce dove into the brick fireplace and pulled up his cape to shield him from the heat and fire that would soon engulf the wooden building. The cape was no plain cloth, it was soaked in a mixture Bruce had learned from some alchemists out of Ulthos that seeped into the fibers and make any cloth impervious to flames.

Bruce then grabbed a bat shaped throwing knife from his belt and began chiseling away at the clay holding one of the bricks of the chimney in place. After cutting the clay loose enough, he slowly pulled the brick back and let it drop to the floor. A cold rush of air splashed over his face as he held his mouth up to the hole for fresh air. The smell of smoke and burning wood clogged his nose, but this would allow him to breath safely in the least. Now all he must do is survive the fire.

_**James**_: Chapter 19

"Bullock, ready my horse at the front steps. Sarah, grab my sword from my desk! And where the hell is Nigma? Jarek, how long has it been since they were sighted?"

"They were spotted less than half an hour's turn ago, Ser," his guardsman replied. Sarah ran down the stairs with James' sword and scabbard in hand and hurriedly handed it to him with a small smile. James yanked it from her hands and fastened it to his belt. _Sorry Sarah, but if something happens to that poor girl on my watch…I'll never forgive myself. _As he passed through the doorway and down to the cobbled street below James shouted out more orders. "Jarek, round up the men from the central square! Bullock, ride through the upper-west end and bring me every one of my men you can find. The rest of you follow me! We're going to save a little girl from the same fate of Lord Tywin's soldiers."

James mounted and took off without waiting for his men to take to their horses. Sarah caught up within half a minute, the rest took near two or three. They rode on towards the Narrows, slowly climbing in numbers as more joined in. James never looked back to count their numbers, but Sarah gave him the tally every time another group joined their ranks. The count was at fifty mounted guardsmen as they crossed the threshold from the upper ends of the city to the lower end, passing through the western-most tail of the Narrows. There were surely more following on foot, but they would take more time than James could afford to wait.

They passed through the empty streets of the abandoned end of Gotham, Arkham Asylum towering over the buildings to the northwest. They rounded a few corners and finally the abandoned inn was in sight. When he arrived, a small group of a dozen guardsmen stood waiting outside the shoddy shack. James dismounted and quickly strode over to them. "How long have you men been here?"

One of the newer recruits, Mistern, spoke up, "Twenty minutes, S-ser. Some beggars over in that old brothel said they saw the group of em' run in here and haven't seen anyone since. We've been patrolling the outside of the place to make sure no one's come or gone. They're holed up in their nice and tight, Ser."

"Good, did the beggars happen to mention if they saw the Joker with them?"

Now Rasen spoke, "No Ser. Only said they saw a group of men with painted white faces run in with a little girl in tow."

James rubbed his temple in frustration. _If we just charge in she'll be dead before we can even reach the stairwell. _"I want three of you on each side, if you so much as see a pair of eyes peering out I want to know about it. Go!"

The men fled to their spots as James turned to speak with Sarah. "If this goes ill then we'll have the entirety of Westoros at our doorstep calling for Joker's head, James," she spoke with a great level of concern in her voice.

James snapped back at her. "No, if this goes ill I'll have the blood of a small, innocent girl on my hands. I could give a damn what the rest of Westoros does!"

James paced around the building for another ten minutes before Bullock finally arrived with another twenty mounted swords. "You six, to the rear! You eight, I want you circling and eyes locked on those windows! The rest of you, dismount and ready yourselves!" James cried out. The men did as bid as Harvey road closer. "What of me, Ser?"

"Harv', we have some onlookers forming over there, make sure they don't grow any closer," James ordered as he pointed to the mouth of an alley fifty paces away where a group of a few dozen smallfolk had gathered to look on in curiosity. Harvey heeled his horse and he rode off towards the observers. James turned to look out at the dusky sky. The four spires of Arkham Asylum pierced into the reddening sky as the sun hid behind the city wall to the northwest. The wrought iron gate of the Asylum stood two hundred paces from where James did, serving as a constant reminder of the Lannister presence in his city. Then James noticed something astray and he prayed he was mistaken. He rubbed his eyes before looking once more, and realized his sight had not failed him. Fifty Lannister soldiers were marching down the bridge connecting the small island to the mainland. The gates parted, and the small lake of crimson continued its march towards the abandoned inn. James marched back to his men as another thirty arrived on foot with Rasen. When they were within earshot he called out, "Now what do you lot want?"

The only crimson soldier mounted upon a horse raised his helm and smiled. He had a longish nose, beady little eyes and a crooked smile. James didn't trust him. "My apologies Ser Gordon, but we have word that the Joker is in there and since my lord wishes for his head, here we stand."

"This is my city and Joker is _mine _to arrest. When he's safely in a cell, then we can argue about to whom his head belongs," James replied bluntly.

"His head belongs to my lord Tywin Lannister, elsewise he might summon his lords that pledge loyalty to him and ride on this beautiful city of yours. Now Ser, stand aside," the Lannister soldier politely reproached.

"No, that girl will be killed if you and your men charge in there! I will _not_ have her killed so your lord can try and heal his wounded honor."

The soldier smirked before driving his heels into his horse's flanks and charged ahead. The rest of his men followed behind him diligently. James looked on in rage as the man lead his horse in a circle around the building. A growing ring of smallfolk had come to see what all of the guardsmen were so interested in. James figured there were at least a few hundred crowding around the abandoned inn now, with more coming. Most of his men had left their posts to keep the cityfolk at bay. As James looked up into the sky once more, he saw a welcome sight.

Out of the darkness an arrowhead flew through the air and punched through one of the wooden boards of the inn. A silver line tethered to its back end trailed off into the shadows from which it had come. Within moments the cityfolk began cheering as they realized their resident Dark Knight was here to save the poor Stark girl. After a few moments he finally crept into sight out of the darkness of night, looking as menacing as a giant bat would be James imagined. He crashed through one of the windows on the third floor as the crowd roared his name and cheered him on. James stepped closer to the building, hoping to hear a thug's cries of pain, but dreading the sound of a young girl's screams. James listened for a moment before stepping back, not able to hear a sound as the crowd's mutterings proved too loud.

After a few minutes the mounted Lannister dismounted and moved to the center of his men. He returned with a lit torch and a grand smile upon his face. A dozen or more of his men emerged from the mass of crimson with lit torches and followed their leader to the inn. James realized what they aimed to do and charged.

"Alright men, light it up!" He called out with an arrogant grin. Before James could get but ten paces from them, they all let their torches fly. The exterior lit up within a few minutes, the smoke billowed up into the sky like a storm brewing over the sea. James just stared on in shock. The fire was burning too wildly for James to burst in through a door or window. He thought of Batman, of Sarah, of the arrogant Lannister soldiers, but mostly of the little Stark girl. _Batman, save her. Please._

_**Richard**_: Chapter 16

"Stay here Ned, I promise on the graves of my parents that I will bring your daughter home." Bruce rode off before Dick or Ned could argue his orders.

"Damn his arrogance," Lord Eddard cursed as he turned, "I only came back so that I could ride out with him together. I've wasted too much precious time."

There were no other horses in the cave as up to this point only Bruce's black stallion was needed. "I'll come with you!" Dick called out as Ned quickly began his ascent up the carved pathway back to the castle. He turned and sighed. "No boy, Bruce had the right of it. You need to stay here. Joker's too dangerous for you, just yet. Now I must go, I've wasted too much time as it is. I should never have let Bruce convince me to come back here."

Ned turned and ran as fast his legs could go back up the path. Once Ned had disappeared into the shadows of the cave, Dick smirked and turned back to his Robin dressings. He grabbed a burlap sack lying on Lucius' desk and stuffed his garments into its belly as quick as he could. Then he felt a tap on the shoulder, forgetting the Summer Islander had even been there. "You might be wanting of these," Lucius said with his smile. He handed two steel escrima sticks over to Dick, stained the same pale black that Bruce's bat-armor was. Dick replied with a grin and hurried off after Lord Eddard.

Dick knew that the lord of Winterfell would not know his way around the city. He also knew that the horses the Starks had rode in on were missing from the castle as Bruce had offered to have them fitted with new horseshoes after the previous ones were beginning to wear. This left the only horses at the castle to be the two that had pulled the carriage they rode in this afternoon. The Lord Hand would surely be in too great a rush to unhitch a horse, so Dick knew this would be his way into the city. His presumptions proved correct as he sprinted out the castle's front doors to find Ned climbing onto the carriage's driver seat. Dick grinned and hurriedly, but soundlessly, sprinted over and climbed onto the back of the carriage. He sat himself upon the flat wooden tail board and held tight as the wagon jerked forward as Ned pushed the horses into a sprint heading down into the city.

Once in the streets and amongst the people, it did not take long to find where the Joker's men had taken Arya. The entire southern region of the city practically knew that they were held up in an abandoned inn in the desolate northwestern section of the city. Ned thanked the smallfolk and whipped the reigns as the wagon pulled forward once more. The people watched the Lord Hand ride off, and then gasped in surprise as they saw a small boy sitting on the wagon's tail. Dick managed to grin and give a small wave. _Even Bruce would value this level of clever slyness. _ Within half an hour they were nearing the forsaken corner at the western end of the city. Once Dick had watched the street grow more broken and unevenly stoned, the buildings lining its side crumble and become more decrepit, he knew they were almost to their destination.

Dick stripped off his doublet and breeches and tossed them into the carriage's cabin. He lowered his feet to the street and quietly ducked off the cabin's back and landed on the street with a silent roll. He snatched up the sack and ran into the nearest side alley wearing nothing but his under-breeches. After ducking into the nearest abandoned building, Dick ran up the stairs to the roof. The air felt cool on his bare skin, making him quicken his pace in dressing. He reached into the sack and pulled out his red leather vest, then the breeches, the green gloves and boots, and finally his cape and mask. He strapped his steel sticks to their places against his boots, and stood, feeling taller than even when he used to look down upon the cityfolk from his place high up in the circus tent's rafters.

He ran to the edge of the three story building and leapt to the next without a moment's hesitation or gazing down for a second. Then to the next, and the next, until finally he stood at the edge of the ring of buildings that surrounded the crowd of people staring on at the abandoned inn. It was ablaze now, with more red and orange flames able to be seen than wood. _No,_ was all Dick could think. He turned to the right and leapt from his roof through a broken window of a five story building alongside his structure. He ran up the stairs and broke through the door to the roof to get a better view.

Dick could see a group of Lannister soldiers by their typical crimson colored armor, but the rest of the cityfolk were just a muddled mess of colors. He looked around, hoping to see Batman standing on a rooftop somewhere on the ring of encircling buildings, but instead saw something unexpected. Two rooftops to his right were a group of men looking on at the fire and laughing. Their faces were white. Despite night falling the light from the fire still lit up their ghostly faces enough for Dick to be certain. In the center of their group, Dick could make out a small figure tied to a chair. _Arya._

Without even pausing to consider the alternatives, Dick jumped to the four story building beside him. He sprinted across the roof and leapt to the next one. In midair he drew his sticks from his boots and crashed into one of the unexpected thugs with one steel shaft jamming into the white-faced man's shoulder and the other his ribs. As the man slammed into the ground, Dick rolled and came to his feet with his sticks at the ready. Before the other men could so much as turn, Dick dove and rolled again, sweeping two of the thug's legs out beneath them as he went. He cracked one stick into the back of one of their heads, the other to another's groin. By the time the thugs had drawn their swords, five of their original twelve laid on the ground clutching some part of their body in pain. The men all began to laugh as they noticed their unexpected assailant was but a boy.

"Alright lad, drop them sticks o' yours slowly and we'll only cut off a hand, not your head," one of them casually threatened. Dick smirked and raised his sticks and shifted into a combat stance. The man nearest Dick shrugged and swung his sword down aiming for the boy's neck. _Too slow._

Dick twirled to the side and brought a stick up to the man's jaw. He leapt back as another man brought his sword forward, and landed on his shoulders. He kicked off of and pushed the thug forward, slamming him into another charging brute. The two collapsed together in a heap, blood dripping from the cracked skin of their foreheads where they collided, as Dick landed on the roof's upraised edge. He was balanced perfectly on the flat wooden board, perched on the balls of his feet. The thugs looked on in confusion, staring at the boy's dark outline against the light of the fire brewing below. Their laughter had ceased as half of their numbers now lay on their backs.

"This ain't Batman, who are you boy?"

Robin glared, "Let her go."

One of the thugs chuckled and moved behind Arya. "Who? Her?"

Dick's grip on the steel poles tightened, his jaw tensed, his eyes glared. The thug grabbed a fistful of her hair and began cutting her rope bonds. When she was free he brought her forward and laughed. He yanked her head back and raised a knife to her throat. "What are you gonn' do boy?" He was only ten paces from where Dick stood, every muscle tensed like a hawk about to dive after its prey.

Dick smirked, "Same thing I did to them." He threw an escrima stick, landing the blunted edge directly into the man's forehead. It hit with such force that it bounced back the way it had came. Dick jumped and rolled, catching it with an outstretched hand, before rising to his feet smoothly beside Arya. "Stay close to me," he whispered to the frightened girl, never letting his eyes drop from the surrounding thugs' gazes.

Two more men charged forward as Dick slid forward on his knees, ducking beneath their swords, and landing blows to each of their knees. They collapsed in unison, clutching their legs. The nimble boy flipped backward into the air, slamming a stick into another's chin. Only three remained now, standing in a line ten paces from Dick, swords drawn. They said nothing, only slowly paced forward with their blades all pointed for Dick's chest. The two children stepped backward with each pace that the thugs made forward. After a few moments of their stalemate, the rightmost thug's foot broke through the roof leaving him stuck. Dick took this moment to charge forward, letting his sticks fly, an end of each finding their target in the foreheads of the other thugs. While the two of them collapsed Dick leapt into the air in a roll. He tucked his legs and head in as he spun. As he came out of it, he brought his leg down at an angle, straight into the remaining man's jaw with a loud _crack_. The man cried out in pain as he fell to the roof's surface clutching his mouth.

Dick grabbed his sticks from the wooden floor and turned back to Arya. She looked terrified, but stood tall and strong. She appeared to be relatively unharmed, only a cut across her forehead and dried blood beneath her lips from when she bit the man that grabbed her earlier. As Dick stepped to her one of the thugs coughed and spoke. "Who, who are you boy?" Dick turned, and looked downward at the man grasping his side in pain. "I'm Robin."

He grabbed Arya's hand and led her back down the stairs. They reached the bottom floor and exited into the alley through a door at the rear of the building. Dick lead Arya down a few alleys, away from the abandoned inn and crowd. "Where are we going?"

Dick did not turn back to face her, for fear of her recognizing him. He wanted to sound heroic, but in truth he was unsure of where they were headed. "I-I don't know. Away from there."

Arya scoffed, "You don't _know_?"

Dick turned on her. "Cut me a bit of slack, I'm new to this. I haven't exactly planned out every move from the start." He turned and smirked as they continued on. "I'm more of a _find your path along the way_ sort of hero." If they had simply been playing with swords like that night in the small feasting hall, she would have argued whether Dick was a hero or not. Now that he had just saved her though, she held her tongue.

They continued on for a few more alleys until Dick found a familiar sight. Batman's black as night stallion stood tethered beside an abandoned stone smith's stead. Dick helped Arya onto its back before untethering it, mounting, and riding off back into the city. _Not too horrid for my first night,_ Dick thought to himself.

"What is that?" Arya asked after a minute.

Dick tilted his head, straining his ears to hear whatever sound she had. Then he heard it, the muffled sound of thousands of small waves crashing against the sand. _What is that?_


	39. Joker 8: Bruce 23: Alfred 18

_**Joker**_: Chapter 8

"_Shttuuuu Shtuuuu Shtuuuuu Sht Sht Shtuuuuu!_" Joker whistled to himself as he passed under the dusty stone doorway. The door had been ripped off years ago from the looks of it, _how_ long ago he could not say. It appeared to be a bakery, when it was inhabited. Joker saw the large hearths on the far end of the room gathering dust. There were shelves beside them to store the bread when it had been finished. Most of them were broken, or riddled with mold. _My mother was a baker, I always did love the smell of bread when I awoke each morning. Or wait, was my mother the baker, or my grandmother? Perhaps my aunt, or a cousin. Actually, was that truly the smell of bread I loved, or was that just the smell of her body when I skewered her and roasted her over a spit… Agh how time fogs the mind and its memories._

Joker refrained from whistling as he silently continued up the steps. He looked down to the floor and smiled as he saw the path of footprints laid out before him. _Like a shadowcat hunting a rabbit._ He went up through the stone building rather quickly, it was only three floors. He burst through the door with a loud cry. "Oh sweetling I'm home! _Hahaha!_"

Edward Nigma turned with eyes as wide and white as Joker's face. "Y-You aren't supposed to be here!" He feebly tried to reason.

Joker chuckled, "_Ha!_ My father said the same thing when I found him with a street whore on my fifteenth name day. My friends said that since I was finally a man grown it was time to become a _true _man. Little did I know my father had beaten me to the punch so to speak, _Haha! _So you're this man full of puzzles I've heard so much about, this little _riddler_."

The man stood frozen in terror. "I mark you as the type of man that doesn't like bumps in his perfect little plans _Hehe_," Joker taunted.

Edward said nothing, only continued standing with his mouth gaped open. "How did you know I would be here?"

"_HAHAHAHA! _Oh please, Edward. From what I've heard you love to prove how big that brain of yours is. This is your master plan is it not? Have some sellswords dress up as if they were my men, kidnap the Stark girl knowing Batman would be not too far behind, leave a trail of tasty little crumbs to this shack, and burn it, trapping him like a rat in a cage. It's really quite brilliant, the only reason I don't crack open your skull and see how big that brain of yours truly is. _Ha! _I do love a good joke such as this. Usually, I love nothing but _unraveling_ little plans such as yours Eddy, but now I find myself almost _appreciating_ the lengths you are going to test him."

Edward frowned, "I'm not _testing_ him you mad fool. I'm going to _catch_ him."

Joker smiled widely and quickly drew a knife to Edward's neck. "_Careful_ Eddy, while I do find you humorous, your life still hangs solely in _my_ hands. Where is she?"

Joker stepped back and slipped the knife back up his sleeve. Edward righted himself and straightened his tunic. "My apologies. On a rooftop directly across from us, I wouldn't dare let her see me or I would be arrested with the foolish thugs. They don't even know who paid them, only the target I gave them. So why not kill me? If you enjoy destroying plans so fiercely?"

"_Hahaha_, oh Edward, there will be no need. As I just said, this is merely a test to him. You're smart, I'll give you that, but you are only one _piece_ of the puzzle. You can test his mind, his strategies, how he plans and thinks, but you are not enough to take him and bring him to his knees. Just as Deathstroke was a capable fighter, able to test the Bat's fighting prowess, but ultimately he failed."

Edward chuckled, "You saw to that."

"_Ha!_ Yes I did Eddy, and don't you forget that. But as I was saying, you are like a whetstone to his mind. You keep it nice and sharp so that he's at his best. No, no Eddy, so long as you don't breach too far into my territory, I'll let you live."

The man in the dark green overcoat with bright orange hair bowed. "Most gracious of you, ser. That is the sorry thing about the kingdom this day isn't it? How everyone seeks riches and glory, I merely seek to beat any who intellectually are worthy of the challenge. The state of the world is so…so…hmmmm" Edward raised his fingers to his chin to think.

After a few moments of silence Joker grew impatient. "Yes?"

Edward's face lit up with excitement, the light from the fire below illuminating his face. "I will explain it to you as this, Joker. _I can be cracked, I can be made, I can be told, I can be played, you may laugh, but that's my aim, what am I?_"

Joker thought a moment before finally realizing the answer to the man's puzzle and burst into uncontainable laughter. _"HAHAHAHA!_ Oh my dear Edward that is simply brilliant, and the homage is noted as well. A _joke,_ _hehehe, _ohh you are too much, ser. You will live to plan another day, I cannot _wait_ to see what your next failed attempt to catch ole' Bats will be. Have a good evening, Nigma."

With that Joker turned to retreat back inside. _I get credit for malicious deeds I haven't even committed! How delicious! _Joker was deterred from his thoughts as he heard a queer sound amongst the cheering from the smallfolk below. Joker turned back to see Edward gazing up into the sky. Joker gazed up and began laughing. _Now that is a truly ironic joke._

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 23

Bruce waited a dozen or so minutes until the fire had begun to subside. He pulled his cape down and peered out at the room outside the firepit he was hiding in. The outer walls were still afire, the floorboards were charred black but for the most part intact, while the inner walls were untouched. Thick, black smoke made the far side of the room barely visible, anything beyond it lay hidden behind its ashy cover. Bruce lay flat and crawled to the next room,, remaining beneath the ceiling of smoke. When he reached the rear half of the room he heard the door broken in with a loud smash. He heard the sound of metal armor clinking against itself as soldiers began entering the burning building. _Lannisters._

"Alright men, spread out and find him, he's in here somewhere!" He heard called out. Bruce crawled to the right and hid in the shadows beneath the stairway. He could hear the sound of water splashing against the wooden walls of the inn over the crackling of the fire. _They meant to lure me here, trap me, and then douse the fire so they could enter and catch me. _Bruce winced in pain from his shoulder and ankle, and disappointment in himself for jumping straight into their trap. _I should've thought, stepped back and planned. Joker would never be so careless._

Two of the soldiers stepped in front of Bruce, unable to see him through the smoke and shadows. Bruce stepped forward, wrapping a hand around each of their mouths and pulling them back into the shadows. They writhed and twisted but couldn't outmatch Bruce's strength. Within half a minute their lungs had exhausted their already short supply of air and they slipped into unconsciousness. Bruce slowly let their bodies slump to the ground as quietly as he could. One of their arms fell from the shadows into the light, and another of the soldiers took notice. "He's over here!"

A crossbow bolt punctured through the wooden step six inches above Bruce's head. Bruce dove from his hiding spot into the room across and was greeted with a flurry of crossbows shooting past him. One deflected off his shoulder guard with a _twang_ and another found its way into Bruce's calf. Bruce's landed flat on the floor, but managed to right himself to his feet. The bolt pierced straight through his leg, the arrow head jutting out from the skin while the tail end remained visible on the opposite side. He limped to the next room, hearing the sound of armored feet slowly surround him. Bruce closed his eyes, quieted his mind, and listened above the crackling fire and sound of the crowd outside. _Two pairs of feet from the left, three from the right. _

Bruce reached behind him to count what supplies he had. He had left with such urgency that he had forgotten to restock his armaments. _Three knives, one smoke bomb, and…_Bruce's fingers touched the small metal cylinder. _I suppose now is the time to test it._

His hand withdrew with the small pipe, he raised it to his lips, and blew. _If it doesn't work, I'm as good as dead._ Bruce blew the small whistle once more before returning it to his belt. Now he took the three knives and prepared his assault. The footsteps were close now, both nearly around their respective corners, they'd discover him soon. Bruce crept as quietly and painlessly as he could to the edge of the hall, waiting for the footsteps to grow closer. He looked to the floor and held fast, until he saw the first crimson boot step into sight. He wheeled around the corner taking the first man by the neck and rolling, smashing his head through the weak wooden floor beneath them. Bruce stood in time to grab the other man's hand before he could raise his crossbow. A quick elbow to the jaw was enough to subdue him. The other footsteps pounded closer until they burst into the room, crossbows all aimed at Bruce's head.

"Well look here boys, we caught ourselves a Batman," one of them chided with a grin. Bruce raised his hands into the air in forfeit. The man spoke again, "Resler, tie im' up."

Resler turned his head, "Fuck tha', I'm nah gettin' anywhere near em."

The leader scoffed and took a step towards Bruce. Bruce brought his hand down in a silent blur, letting his knives fly. Two of them found their target in the Lannister soldier's collars. They fell to the ground clutching where their shoulders and neck joined. The wounds would hurt, but wouldn't prove fatal. The last man laughed realizing the knife intended for him missed its target. His crossbow was still aimed for the center of Bruce's chest. The man stepped back into the entranceway to the room as his partners slowly succumbed to unconsciousness from their wounds and sudden loss of blood. "I was told to bring you back alive Batman, but I don't think Lord Tywin will lose a night of sleep should you come to him as a corpse." He raised his crossbow to his eyes and wryly smiled.

_Don't have time to reach for a smoke bomb_, _too wounded to dodge..._ Before Bruce could think of a possible route of escaping the situation, one was provided for him. A large board of wood came smashing down upon the Lannister guard's head making him collapse to the ground. James Gordon turned the corner and coughed into his wrist. "Alright, let's get you out of here."

Bruce had not been so relieved to see a man since seeing Alfred for the first time in over a decade when he returned to Gotham. Gordon managed a small smile, "You look like shit."

"I've been told worse."

James hurried to where Bruce stood and took up his arm to relieve pressure from his pierced and injured leg. "Now how are we going to get you ou-"

The leader of the City Watch was interrupted by the sounds of screams outside. "What in the bloody hell is that?" Bruce tried his best to peer out a window. "Reinforcements."

He took a step forward, signaling Gordon to follow suit. They limped through the burning inn until they were at its front door. "Where's your horse?" Bruce asked.

"Uhh, tied to an old brothel directly in front of this place. Why? You're not fixing to take my horse from me are you?"

Bruce gasped in pain. "I'll return it."

James reached for the door handle, turned it, and opened. They were greeted with the screams of hundreds of city folk fleeing in a mass of chaos and terror. Diving in and about them, swirling overhead in a massive storm of beating wings, were thousands upon thousands of _bats._ They were a fluttering torrent in the skies and amongst the people, biting and clawing at smallfolk and armored guard alike. Gordon turned to Bruce in confusion.

"Keep your head down," was all Bruce told him as they made their way into the crowd. James grabbed a cloak that had been left on the street and flung it over himself to prevent the bats from reaching his bare skin. They made way through the panicking masses, every one of them too preoccupied with their winged assailants to notice the head of the City Watch assisting a branded criminal outlaw. They limped their way the fifty paces from the inn's door to Gordon's horse. It was rearing and whinnying in panic, trying its best to flee. James gently took it by the neck and stroked down its nose to calm it while Bruce mounted. James untied it from its post and looked up to Bruce. "What of the Stark girl?"

"I'll find her as soon as I treat my wounds. Thank you." Before James could respond Bruce took off and rode out through the crowd and on towards the city. He rode up through the abandoned city streets to the alley where he had left his horse. He found the site empty and was too wounded to search so he decided to continue his return home. As he continued on down the street the sea of bats slowly thinned until eventually it dwindled to only the occasional group of bats fluttering past.

Bruce continued riding and by the time he was passing from the Narrows to the region of the city nearest the ports he saw something that made his blood boil more so than it was already. He saw a bright yellow cape fluttering behind a boy's body dressed in a red leather vest and black hair blowing in the wind. Bruce spurred Gordon's horse on and prepared to shout until he saw the girl riding in front of Dick. He caught up to the boy, riding atop _his_ horse, and waited for Dick to take notice of his presence. The boy immediately looked over his shoulder with a sense of dread. Bruce matched his horse's speed and growled at the boy, "I _told_ you to _stay_."

Dick looked to Arya before returning to match gazes with Bruce. "If I had, she'd still be with those thugs. You're welcome."

_What would Alfred say to him…_Bruce managed a stern, but lighthearted, "Good work." The pair of horses and their riders continued on towards the hill that Wayne Castle stood upon, leaving behind a panicked crowd and a turbulent storm of bats.

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 18

"I'm sure they will be fine, my lady. Your father will use everything in his power to help find Arya. Ser Gordon of the City Watch as well, he and his men will search the city leaving no stone unturned," Alfred said comfortingly to the young girl crying in his arms.

She continued sobbing for a few more minutes before looking up. "And Batman? He'll surely help, won't he?"

Alfred smiled, "Lady Sansa, if I were you, I would not worry for Arya. Batman will not let any harm befall her. If I were you, I would worry for the Joker, when Batman _finds_ him."

The Dornishman had slipped a drop of a modified mixture of sweetsleep into the tea the girl had drank but five minutes ago. Within a few minutes Sansa was peacefully lulling into sleep, her body going limp against Alfred's. He laid the girl to bed and drew the blankets up over her. He quietly closed the door before making his way for the cave with great haste. He opened the door to the study, pulled the book, climbed down the ladder, and marched down the cave walkway. As Alfred proceeded down the walkway, he heard a loud noise echoing down the hall from the cave. It sounded like waves from the salt sea crashing through the tunnels and pits of the cave. He was nearing the opening into the hollow hole in the earth when he saw it, a storm of thousands of bats whirling around the cave in a giant tsunami. Tens of thousands of little wings flapped, thousands of pairs of black little eyes glared about, and thousands of screeches echoed against the stone walls like the screams of damned souls coming for their offenders. _It sounds like wailing, but to Bruce, it is surely music that even the heavens could not match._

The bats slowly fled through the two stone passageways out of the cave, drifting out in waves as if they truly were made of sea water. When the last of the bats finally found their way out of the cave, Alfred proceeded down the pathway and into the hollow cavern. Everything remained as it was, save for a few of Bruce's sparring mannequins laying on the floor. Alfred moved over to the smith's corner in time to see Lucius duck out from his hiding place beneath his desk. He smiled as he saw the Dornishman approaching. "Seems he used it."

"Used what precisely?"

Lucius laughed as he moved to right his mannequins to their proper place. "Bats, are one of the few beasts on earth that can hear at a, _higher_ level, I suppose I should call it. They can hear sounds we cannot, sounds that are invisible to our ears. In my time in the hills of Norvos, I studied these creatures and came up with a way to _summon_ them."

"_Summon_ bats? How?" _Yet another reason for Bruce to bring this man back with him._

"A whistle, such as hunters use with their hounds, only this one calls out for bats. So long as Bruce remains in the city, the bats dwelling in these caves will be within earshot of the whistle I forged for him."

"Astounding…" Was all Alfred could respond with. Lucius looked back and smiled, "Why thank you Alfred, it's always welcome for a craftsman's work to be appreciated."

After a few minutes of Alfred aiding Lucius in returning his working station to its former state, Lucius spoke, "The Stark girl…?"

"Joker's men have taken her."

Lucius showed a sudden look of concern, "You don't think…"

"I think nothing Lucius, only _know_, and what I _know_ is that Bruce will find a way to save her and stop him. Just as he did with Tywin Lannister."

"And what happens when Bruce _can't_ save the day, my friend? When he isn't enough?"

Alfred looked out at the cave, thinking over how but only a few months ago, only a lone man stood at its center. A man with such hopes and plans for the future that Alfred is surprised this cave could contain it all. "I would rather not think of that day. That is why he has the boy, Gordon, us, so that when the day comes that he should fail, he will not suffer it alone."

Lucius's smile returned to his face, "How about a drink?" The Summer Islander leaned under his desk and returned with two glasses and a bottle of Arbor gold. He poured each of them a drink and they sat, looking out to the cave. They sat and talked of favorite wines, women they had had in their beds over their lifetime, preferred methods of healing wounds, and other trifling matters to distract themselves, as they often did, when worried for Bruce and anticipating his return.

After nearly an hour, they finally heard the sound of hoof beats drumming against the stone of the cave floor. Within a few moments Bruce rode into the cave atop a chestnut colored mare. A few moments after that, Dick rode in on Bruce's stallion with a blindfolded Arya sharing the saddle. As Alfred stepped closer Bruce rose a finger to his lips silently ordering them to be quiet. At this closer distance, Alfred could see it was Dick's mask that was blinding Arya's vision, and that a crossbow bolt was piercing through Bruce's calf.

Bruce dismounted with a grunt and limped to Lucius who offered an arm and helped him over to his table. Dick stepped down from his mount before saying to the girl, "Alright, turn to face the sound of my voice."

Arya lifted her left leg and swung it over the horse's back to face Dick. He reached up and helped her to the ground. "How long do I need to wear this blindfold for?"

"As long as I say you need wear it," the boy responded with the maturity and determination in his tone of a man fully grown. "Who else is here with us? I hear their footsteps."

Before Dick could move, Arya raised her hands to her blindfold and tore it down. "_Dick_!? You're the one that saved me?"

Dick stood and stared in shock, before furrowing his brow. "I told you to keep it on! Why do you alw-"

Arya cut him off, "Alfred? Lucius!? Then that means…that you're…" She trailed off as she turned to look at Batman.

Bruce stood from his chair, glaring at the girl. _Standing like that will frighten the soul out of the poor girl._ Alfred turned back to Arya to see her staring wide eyed, terrified. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Now Bruce interrupted, and limped forward to where the girl stood. She held her ground, not shrinking away from the masked man. Her eyes however, showed her fear plainly. Bruce knelt down to face her eye to eye, grimacing in pain from his wounded leg. He reached up and removed his helmet so he could look on the girl as Bruce Wayne, not Batman. "You will tell no one."

Arya nodded in equal measures understanding, and fear. "Yes, my lord."

Bruce slowly nodded before returning to Lucius and letting the Summer Islander disarmor him. Alfred took the reins of the horses and led them to the stable. When he returned, Arya was sitting in a chair with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Dick was disrobing his boiled leather vest behind his large oak wardrobe as to remain hidden from the girl while nearly nude. Alfred stepped over to the girl and knelt, taking two fingers under her chin to left her face up to meet his. "Well the scratch seems fairly shallow. I'm assuming this blood is one of your captor's and not your own?" Alfred asked with a smirk.

"I bit him right in the forearm. One of them returned the favor with the butt of his crossbow to my head," she replied with a small grin.

"Yes well, I'm sure Master Bruce showed them not to tangle with littler girls if you did not make the message clear enough."

Arya bit her lip, "Actually, it was Dick that saved me. He took out all ten of them."

Bruce groaned with pain from the table as Lucius pulled the bolt from his leg. Alfred turned back to face the girl with a raised eyebrow. "Master Richard saved you? My word, it would seem he's quite the young boy wonder isn't he?"

Alfred took a wet cloth and dabbed the girl's brow and chin to rid her of the dried blood. He fetched a small jar from Lucius' desk, took two fingers to its contents, and rubbed the cream along the girls wound. By this time, Dick had redressed in a silk doublet and wool breeches and emerged from behind his wardrobe. Rather than coming to comfort the girl, he picked up his escrima sticks and began assaulting the training mannequin. Alfred and Arya looked on as Dick jumped, rolled, swung, kicked, and grunted on the other side of the cave. _He has done so well this night, and yet it is not enough. He wishes to improve, grow stronger, he truly is like his mentor._ Alfred turned to where Bruce laid on the table, drinking Lucius' Arbor Gold straight from the bottle as the smith treated his wounds. _Within two days he'll be back on his feet and training despite any arguments Lucius or I give. _

After another twenty minutes of Arya's silence, the _thuds _from Dick's sparring, and the grunts from Bruce's throat, Alfred heard footsteps echoing down the pathway. Lord Eddard Stark burst into the room with a look of pure anger upon his face, only for it to melt away when he saw Arya's face. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace. "Oh my sweet girl, thank the gods you are safe."

Arya said nothing as she hugged her father, tears in the corner of both their eyes. Their gray eyes met as strands of their brown hair matted with sweat fell across their brow. _Without a doubt they are truly each other's kin._ Ned leaned back and looked into his daughter's eyes, "They didn't harm you or…?"

She shook her head, "No, they did nothing aside from the crossbow butt to my head. I sure showed him, _hehe.._"

Ned allowed himself a thin smile and a humored grunt. "Aye, that you did. Don't scare me like that again." He ruffled his daughter's hair. Alfred looked on with a smile. _A father that even rivals Thomas._

Ned stood, "Alfred, if you would see my daughter to bed."

Arya blinked in confusion. "Father? You only just got here."

"I know Arya, but I have something too urgent to let wait that I must discuss with Bruce. Bruce, would you prefer Richard present or no?" He called out across the cave. Bruce leaned to his side, "Alfred, do as Ned bids. Dick, stop your training and come sit."

Ned leaned down once more and hugged his daughter, "I'm sorry my dear. I need to say what I must to Bruce, I will come to you when I'm done. I won't be long."

Arya slowly nodded and took Alfred's hand. As Ned stood he gave Alfred an appreciative nod and turned to move closer to where Bruce laid waiting. The Dornishman led the girl up through the walkway, up the ladder and through the study. As they reached her chambers she looked up to Alfred and smiled. "Give Dick my thanks, if you would Alfred."

"Of course, my lady."

"Will they always do this? Risk their lives to save people? Even if they've only known them a day, or not at all?" She asked with genuine concern flowing from her face.

"Yes my lady, Batman and Robin shall always stand watch over this city, of that much I am certain."


	40. Bruce 24: Richard 17: James 20

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 24

Bruce lay quietly and watched as Alfred escorted Arya out of the cave. He did not know whether the girl could be trusted to keep their secret safe, but it was out of his hands now. _Too many people know, it will be difficult to keep so many tongues in check._

When they had gone, Bruce turned his head back to face Ned. His eyes appeared more gaunt and tired then they usually did. His expression was strained and his face was still pale, despite some of the color slowly starting to return. _He is a man who has seen and experienced more than any father should. May his old gods look over him in recompense. _

"What is it you have to say, Ned?"

The man swallowed and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. "When the bats stormed over us, when you made your escape, I saw something amongst the crowds of screaming smallfolk and fluttering wings. On the far side of the crowd where I stood, I saw a man leave one of the abandoned buildings along the perimeter. He had a dark green traveler's coat, and bright orange hair. I believe him to be this Edward Nigma that plagues Gordon and his City Watch. It seems he expected to not be seen on his exit. Almost as if he were observing the events from the building's roof and decided to depart when he felt it best for his anonymity. I believe he is responsible for kidnapping Arya. I decided to rush back here to tell you. I figured you were wounded and needed aid when I heard that Batman and a brightly colored boy were spotted rushing off with a small girl in tow. My heart felt a rush of relief that it hasn't experienced in years. We need to speak with the men Dick defeated and-"

Bruce raised a hand and cut off the lord midspeech. "We will worry over these matters tomorrow, Ned. I know you wish to bring your daughter's true captors to justice, and I promise you we shall. Now go, be with your daughters, comfort them. Leave the Joker and Nigma to me."

Ned swallowed his words and nodded silently. He quickly strode off, up the pathway to the castle, heeding Bruce's orders. Dick looked on in disbelief, "Well what was easier than I thought it'd be."

Bruce took another bottle of wine from Lucius and yanked the cork off with his mouth. He downed a few gulps and wiped his chin with his wrist. As he turned on his side a tearing pain ripped through his leg from calf to the bottom of his ass. "Ned may be stubborn, determined, and often times seemingly miserable, but he is a father above all. Like a snowbear looking over its cub, you harm one of his children and that's the fastest way to get him off his frozen throne and hunting you down. Although, this Nigma matter is distressing. If he truly is responsible, and not the Joker, then we have an even more menacing threat than the Joker or Tywin Lannister on our hands."

"He's worse than the Joker? How?" Dick puzzled. Bruce could see the confusion in the boy's face. He had acted with such immature boldness in disobeying orders and saving the girl, but there was still a great amount of determination and mature strength shown. But he was still but a boy, seeing and judging matters with an eye of insight and clarity that Bruce had was something Dick had to gain over time.

Bruce took another swig before replying, "Tywin, while tactical and cunning on the battlefield, overextended his reach and tried to contain an unruly fire. Joker simply throws oil on the fire and watches how far it can burn. This Nigma however, if he truly is the one responsible for Arya's kidnapping, then he not only enjoys watching and spreading the fire, but _directs_ it as well. Having the blame fall on Joker for the deed keeps any hint of a scent off of his trail, and he can continue plotting in the daylight while Joker must hide his face in the shadows."

Dick was silent for a while as he thought over Bruce's words. "So the men I fought weren't Joker's men. They were ones Nigma paid to paint their faces and kidnap Arya?"

Bruce nodded, "You said they stood on a roof overlooking the square around the inn. Joker would never be so careless. Nigma most likely planned to give Gordon their location as to arrest them. They might not even know he was the one paying them, further saving his anonymity. I will speak to them tomorrow night. Gordon should let me have at least a few minutes with them."

"We're to be arrested on site, and you aim to go into one of the watch's keeps? Oh and yet you scold me for disobeying orders!" Dick retorted.

Bruce smirked. "I didn't scold you for disobeying my orders. If memory serves true, then I commended you for saving her. But if you go against my orders again you can hang your cape up permanently."

"What of Arya? She knows our secret."

"There's nothing we can do there. Ned will hopefully learn her the importance of our secret and why she must keep it," Bruce replied sternly. Arya finding out about their secret was not overly convenient, but should not prove overly troublesome.

"What if she…wanted to join us?"

Bruce looked to Dick in apprehension. "She won't, and if she even did I would still turn her away. She is the daughter of the Warden of the North, Dick. She will be wed, and have little wolves of her own. She is destined for a brighter and more rewarding life than the paths we have chosen. Her place is in a throne room, not a cave. Now go rest, we have a long week ahead of us."

Dick nodded, although his face showed his wish to argue further. He stood from his chair and followed the path up and out of sight. Once he had left, Lucius returned to Bruce's side with a smile. "You know, you aren't going to be walking right for at least a week. Turns out you may just need that cane of yours, in truth this time," Lucius jested as he broke out into a fit of chuckling.

Bruce looked up from his position on the table and smirked. "Precisely. I never said I was to visit Gordon as Batman. Why Lucius, that would just be foolish."

_**Richard**_: Chapter 17

"Bruce wishes to speak with you in his chambers," Dick carefully told Arya as her and her family were breaking their fast. Ned looked up from his plate in concern, Sansa in confusion. Arya looked to her father for approval, to which she was replied with a slow nod and a hug. She followed Dick out of the small feasting hall and up the marble staircase to Bruce's chambers.

Alfred stood in wait and opened the doors for them. He followed them in and closed them behind him, standing with his arms behind his back as an ever-watching observer. Bruce looked in fairer shape than he had last night. He was sitting up in bed against a few feathered downed pillows with a glass of wine in his right hand. His left lay limply at his shoulder, with fresh white bandages wrapping his shoulder and chest. His legs were beneath a silken red sheet but doubtlessly the right one was bandaged heavily. As they entered, Bruce allowed himself a small smile and gestured for them to sit in the two chairs at his right. When they had sat, Bruce took another sip and the smile left his face and was replaced with a solemn thin line.

"Now, of what you saw last night…" he began. Arya leaned forward in her chair quickly and blurted, "I won't tell anyone, I swear."

Bruce nodded, never letting his eyes fall from the girl's. "I know you won't. Our secret is a dangerous and heavy one to bear. It is not just the Joker or Gotham's City Watch that hunt Batman, there are those in Highgarden, Dorne, even King's Landing that would surely wish to see Batman unmasked, and brought before the king's justice."

"That is why my father came here, to see for the king whether Batman, er…you, were a threat," she nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I know. Your father and I have had many conversations during your stay. I have shown him that Batman poses no threat to Westoros or King Robert. Hopefully, his word will be enough to stay the king's involvement in my city. Now Lady Stark, I had not wished for you to have this weight on your shoulders, but your rash decision to remove your blindfold last night has taken the decision from my hands. Your stubbornness will bite you in the ass every time you use it so mindlessly, Arya. In the future, think before you act. To you as well Dick. While you did save our young guest here last night, the night could have gone the other way just as easily. You both could be dead at this moment if you had misstepped or had gotten yourselves captured by the city guard or Lannister men… You both need to think before you act, the both of you. Especially you Dick, if you wish to continue as Robin."

Now Dick was the one to nod in agreement. "I will Bruce, I just needed to make sure she was safe." _I still saved her, that is all that matters. _

Arya looked from Dick to Alfred, and then settled her gaze on Bruce once more. "I want you to teach me as well," the wolf girl pronounced.

Bruce's brow raised in curiosity, but Dick could tell he was not overly surprised. "She could remain here, and train and spar with me. It would be nice to have a sparring partner my own size," Dick tried to plead.

The lord of bats only shook his head slowly. "No. I am sorry Arya, but I cannot train you. I know your father is having you learn to fight with a blade in King's Landing. That will have to be sufficient for you. You may not be like your sister or any other noble lady when you are fully grown, but your destiny is not in the cave beneath us. Your fate lies in a bright throne room, with the sun on your face and love in your heart. Ours, is risking our lives to defend this city. I did not wish this life for Dick either, but that path was unavoidable it would seem."

"I chose this path, why can't she?" Dick argued. It seemed unfair for Bruce to allow him to choose this fate and yet deny Arya who clearly wished to remain and learn like Dick had. Bruce looked to Dick and his face grew solemn. "Dick, your family is gone from this world, such is mine. Arya still has a loving father, caring mother, a sister and group of troublesome brothers. My apologies, to both of you, but your place is not here Arya."

Arya bit her lip in an attempt to prevent further pleading. "Very well, my lord. Thank you for the kindness and trust you have showed me."

Bruce chuckled, "I believe that is the most lady-like thing you have said in your stay here. You both may go."

As Alfred held the doors open for them to leave he gave a reassuring wink to the two of them. They descended down the stairwell to the first floor. "Well, Bruce may choose not to teach you, but I can attempt to with what time we have left."

Arya's fact lit up. "You'll teach me?"

Dick nodded. "Yes, so long as this time you follow my instructions."

He turned to lead her down the corridor to his chambers when she reached out and touched his shoulder. Dick looked back over his shoulder and saw that her expression had grown troubled. "What is it?"

"Thank you…for saving me last night…" she whispered softly. _She probably hasn't said thank you more than a dozen times in her life._

Dick smiled and ruffled her hair like his father used to do. "No problem, _my lady_. I suppose we should start the lesson immediately so you can learn how to defend yourself, since you are so timid and weak, as ladies are."

Arya's face contorted in anger and she punched him in the shoulder. "I can still take you," she bluntly stated.

Dick smiled and teased, "If it pleases my lady to think so."

_**James**_: Chapter 20

James was one of the lucky ones. He had only three scratches on his face, and but one bite on his hand. His armor and the cape he had thrown over his head had given the flying rodents less of a target than the completely unarmored smallfolk that had gathered to watch the spectacle of fire, a stolen wolf girl, and an armored bat. _Little birds too apparently_. James had heard the tales of the young boy titling himself _Robin_ riding off with the girl while the Lannister soldiers, the city guard, and the crowd of cityfolk, were trapped in the storm of bats.

What James didn't hear, however, was what the Joker's hired thugs had to say. Shortly after the bats had flew off, returning to whatever dark cave they had come from, the Lannister men decided to storm the inn once more in force. All they had found though, were the unconscious bodies of their own men. The remainder had decided to spread out into the surrounding ring of buildings. They had hoped to find the Batman injured and bleeding in some abandoned corner no doubt. What they did find however, was a group of white-faced and equally unconscious criminals on an overlooking rooftop. They had seized them up and dragged them back behind the gates and walls of Arkham Asylum before James could so much as blink. James had sent word to Strange that he wished to speak with his first guests, but had had no response. _If this becomes a common occurrence, I may need to visit Hugo myself to let him know this is still MY city. _Whenever James thought of the city as his, he would remember that he had begun to _share_ it.

Batman would have been captured last night were it not for him. James could not be certain, for the mysterious stranger always seemed to have a trick in that belt of his to whip out at the last possible moment, but the thought made James feel as if he were contributing more than he feared he actually was. _Batman has found and captured Tony Zucco, defeated Deathstroke, saved Lord Tywin, fended off the Joker, and now saved the Stark girl while my men and I cowered beneath a flurry of bats, another of his own tricks I'm sure. Perhaps my usefulness has run its course. _The thought bounced around within James' skull frequently. He had fought the city's crime through the Waynes' deaths, their son's fourteen year departure, too many of his men leaving or dying under his command, and his forces dwindling to a mere hundred and fifty-two men to combat thousands of smugglers, rapers, thieves, killers, and worse sorts. Most would see that as a gallant effort and worthy of sitting down and living out the rest of one's life peacefully, but most men were not like James Gordon. _I cannot abandon this city, but what do I do for it now? I have five centuries of men sure, but my wife and son have left me, my daughter loathes me, and I'm to hunt and capture the one man I feel I can trust in this city…the only other whose actually helping it back from the brink of darkness. What more can I do? _Before James could continue his path of thought, Sarah rapped at the door with tidings of guests.

James walked through the keep's front door as fast as he could, Sarah quick on his heels. He sped down the stone steps and reached their bottom where Tony Zucco once lay unconscious, bound, and crippled. Lord Eddard Stark was helping a crippled Lord Wayne from the carriage's red leather seat to the cobbled street below. When their movements had stopped and Lord Wayne stood on his three legs, two of flesh with one of wood, James bowed his head and torso quickly in respect. "My lords, I pray your forgiveness, I had not expected you. If you had sent word I would have ordered the keep washed and cleaned. Our holding cells are full and the smell is something horrid. I-"

Lord Wayne rose up a hand to silence the rambling knight and chuckled. "Ser Gordon there is no forgiving to be had. We expect to see your keep as it stands, there is no need to polish it. It is a dangerous and sometimes messy duty you and your men, ah my apologies, _and _women, do each day. Good day, Lady Essen," the lord finished with a smile, acknowledging James' feminine company. Sarah bowed her head and returned his smile. "Good day, my lord. What brings you to us this day?"

James had a sinking feeling in his gut. _To criticize and berate us for allowing the Lord Hand's daughter to be kidnapped in the first place, what else? _James looked to Lord Eddard to see if he had as pleasant a demeanor as the residing lord. Lord Stark stood as frigid as the Wall, and his eyes were as cold and iced over as its surface. His eyes were baggy and red from being deprived of sleep, but he was not as wintry as he had been at Arkham in Hugo's company. Hopefully the Northern Lord was blessed with more sleep last night with his daughter out of the Joker's hands. James kneeled and looked to the ground before the Lord Hand and began, "My Lord Stark, you have my sincerest apologies for fail-"

Eddard laid a hand on James' shoulder and gripped tight, pulling him up to his feet and looking him in the eye. His eyes were still their icy, pale hue, but a small ray of compassion was seeping through their center now. "There was no failure, Ser Gordon. There is nothing to apologize for. Your men arrived as quickly as they could after Arya was taken. None were present when she was taken. Your men acted quickly and valiantly when you learned of her location, were it not for this vigilante outlaw and his newly dawned lackey, I am sure you would have returned my daughter to me safely. There will be no more talk of it."

James nodded in understanding, but his pride still burned of failure. _Batman once more saves my ass, and yet it still is burned. I am slowly running out of skin that has not been maimed, burned, scarred, or dirtied. I fear for what becomes of me when I do run out. _"Ser Gordon, we wish to speak with you, in the privacy of your solar if possible," Lord Wayne charmed. James blinked, "Of course my lord, but isn't your shoulder too wounded to traverse stairs? My solar is on the third floor."

James had heard that Lord Wayne had a crossbow bolt pierce his shoulder during the course of Arya's kidnapping. He looked remarkably cheery for a man that had just been shot the afternoon past. He chuckled, "Ser Gordon, you mustn't worry over my health so much. I have a servant to do such a task for me. I was shot in the left shoulder, luckily I hold my cane in the right for I find it works better for it to rest beside my injured leg. Much to the disagreement of the healer-woman that nursed my leg back to health during my time away from the city, I might add." The lord rolled his right shoulder displaying its mobility while his left hung limp at his side. James led them up the stairway and into the keep. Once inside however, they were granted with rather unfavorable company.

"Ah Lord Wayne, and Lord Stark? How the gods smile on me, I had been hoping to meet your acquaintances sooner but I suppose the Batman won't catch himself now will he?" Edward Nigma cried out excitedly as he proceeded down the wooden stairway from the upper floors. While James looked tired and unkempt, Nigma looked perfectly well rested and undoubtedly cheery.

The orange haired pest continued, "Oh Lord Stark I was so worried for your daughter, but luckily she returned unharmed. The gods must be feeling doubly generous this day. And Lord Wayne, I had heard of the injury you received from the simple minded fools that took her, I am pleased to see you are no worse for wear. How does your shoulder fare?"

Nigma's eyes dropped as he looked over his guests. James noticed the man's eyes lingered at Bruce's legs oddly, as if something was awry. _He still suspects Wayne of being Batman. _James remembered seeing Batman's left leg last night with a bloodied crossbow quarrel jutting out from both sides of it. _Lord Wayne's right leg is the crippled one, and now Batman's as well. _James had grown less and less concerned of Batman's identity for the past few days. Since he visited the lord in his castle the night of Lord Stark's arrival, and with Batman's actions last night, James had decided his efforts were better spent elsewhere than trying to find the face beneath the pointed helm. If Edward wished to continue hunting the belief of Lord Wayne being Batman he could until it drove him mad, if he so chose. James opted to keep his sanity and attempt to do what he could with what he had, even if the Batman was proving more effective than any of his own efforts.

"Ah, Edward Nigma I presume, the one with all of the riddles beneath that bright orange hair of yours? How goes your hunt for our resident Batman?" Lord Wayne jested.

Nigma chuckled, "My lord you are correct! Would you wish to hear one of my word puzzles?"

Bruce smiled and nodded. Nigma continued, "_I cannot be other than what I am, until the man who made me dies. Power and glory will fall to me finally, but only when he last closes his eyes._ What am I?"

"_Ha!_ That is quite a mind teaser. Hmm, I'm afraid I have no idea ser, what is the answer?"

Nigma smiled, pleased with himself undoubtedly. "A prince, my lord. I could think of no better riddle to give the _Prince of Gotham_."

Bruce leaned forward in laughter at the man's response. Edward's face shifted from pleasure with his own ego, to confusion and disdain for what he surely felt was mockery coming from Lord Wayne. The lord righted himself and spoke once more, "Another, another if you would. These are quite interesting."

Edward smiled thinly, James could see contempt burningin his eyes. "If it please you, my lord. _I sleep by day, I fly by night, but I have no feathers to aid my flight. I strike with claws and teeth that bite_. What am I?"

Bruce raised a single finger to his lips in thought as Lord Eddard looked on unamused. "I know this one. A bat, ser, am I correct?"

Nigma smiled his same arrogant, thin lipped smile and nodded. "A bat you are indeed my lord, well done, but alas I must depart. I must look over the building where the Joker's men were found, see if any stone has yet to be unturned. A good day to you, my lords."

Edward Nigma gave a slight bow and left through the door they had just come through. "A queer little fellow isn't he?" Lord Wayne jested. James nodded and led them up the stairs. Along the way he ran into Harvey Bullock who had just woken from a light nap. "Bullock, stand at my door, no one in or out unless it's my daughter or a man caught on fire." Harvey simply nodded in understanding. Sarah found her way to her own chambers as they passed the second floor, not wanting to intrude on their affairs. Once safely inside James' solar, he offered each lord a seat while he took up the seat at his desk.

The Lord of Gotham rubbed his crippled leg once he was safely seated, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Stairs, a cripple's greatest foe, as it were. Now, Ser Gordon, the reason for our coming. Lord Stark here has brought to my attention that the gold I have been giving is not enough. The size of your guard compared to King's Landing's is laughable, and I plan to remedy that. Tell me the amount of gold you'd need to bring on another thousand or so guards, and it's yours. I know your outer keeps have fallen into poor condition in my absence so let us remedy that shall we? I know a thousand and a half or even two thousand men may not be sufficient but my wealth is not what it once was. When more ships begin to return and my funds of gold are returned to their former mountainous state, I will give you the gold to double to four thousand men."

James sat with his jaw gaping in shock. He was expecting to be verbally beaten for his failings yesterday or for Lord Wayne to retire him from his position as head of the City Watch, but certainly not _this_. "M-my lord, I'm afraid I don't know what to say."

His lord chuckled and raised a hand. "There is nothing to say, Ser. I'm a criminal myself for letting the state of your guard slip to such meager numbers. Lord Stark has brought the issue to my full attention, as have the happenings of yesterday. With more men, you can sweep more of the city, direct attention to the rest of Gotham, and not just the Narrows and the surrounding streets. My apologies for not righting the wrong sooner."

_With two thousand men…I could do so much more. To think, half a year ago I was merely scraping by with just over a hundred men. Now I'll have twenty centuries. _"Thank you my lord, my words do not do the act justice. You are most gracious. I, I don't know how to thank you properly."

Bruce laughed, "You do it by keeping my people safe, Ser. Just continue on with your path, your duties, and that is all the thanks I need. Lord Stark?"

Lord Eddard leaned forward, "Ser Gordon, you are a noble man. While I am still unsure as to whether Batman or this new boy wonder are a threat or not, I know Gotham can be trusted in your hands."

James' eyes widened and his jaw managed to find the flexibility to drop even further. "L-lord Stark, I, I don't know what to say."

Eddard smiled, "As Lord Wayne said, you can thank us by continuing to serve this city. While Batman goes outside the law to fight the crime of this city, you do so _within_ the boundaries of the law. That is the harder path, and the more honorable one. Any man can throw the law to the wind, but it takes a man of iron will and stone resolve to heed that wind and follow it like a sail on the sea. When I return to King's Landing I'll ask King Robert if any gold can be spared to your cause. The sooner we get you more men, the better."

It all felt like a dream to James, that, or when he got so drunk he could barely stand in his youth. The two lords had come and went, with their tidings of promises of gold and commending for honorably fulfilling his duties. They had not stayed long, once they had finished praising James they asked of what became of the thugs from last night to which James regretfully replied that they were in Strange's care. Then they said their goodbyes and had departed as quickly as they had arrived. James took notice that there were none of Lord Wayne's personal guard escorting them after the events of yesterday. _Perhaps they do not fear the city as much as they should, but then again, visitors never truly do._


	41. Alfred 19: Selina 16: Bruce 25

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 19

It was the morning of the Starks' departure from Gotham. The sun had decided to rise to send them off. _A final apology for their distress these last few days it would seem,_ Alfred though. Bruce and Lord Stark had returned from Ser Gordon's company in rather sad spirits the night past, having discovered the men responsible for Arya's capture were in Hugo Strange's care in Arkham Asylum. Eddard was fuming, Bruce on the other hand had kept a calmed mind.

"They kidnap my daughter and Tywin's lackey has the gall to take her captors into his care without allowing visitors? Who does the man think he is?" Ned raved when they were within the safe stone walls of the cave. Bruce was sitting in his chair with his fingertips joined together at his lips in a steeple, deep in thought. It took Eddard calling Bruce by name twice to stir him from his thoughts. Arya and Dick were dancing with blades in hand on the flattest stone island in the cave's northernmost corner. Their steel clanged at every kiss and echoed off the cave's rounded walls.

"There is nothing more you can do, Ned. Strange has them, I'm beginning to wonder if he too isn't involved in this plot. Meeting with Nigma today confirmed our suspicions. The man thinks himself as wise as the Crone it would seem, but flaunts it like a boy proving his manhood. He surely suspects me of being Batman, his little riddle proved as much. They'll surely kill them, to prevent them from speaking of the dark secrets that they know," Bruce stated plainly.

"Damn Nigma, and damn Strange. I want to look the lot that took her in the eyes and make them tell me who paid them off," Ned growled as he sat across from Bruce, helpless.

"I will let things calm, give the Lannister men and Strange a week or two of peace of mind, and sneak in under the cover of night."

Ned shook his head. "You said yourself, they'd surely be dead by that time."

Bruce winced in pain as he stood, gripping his leg with a grunt. "No, they're the only captives held within Strange's prison walls. If they were to go missing or found dead, it would bring suspicion to him, should he be involved. And with Gordon gaining another thousand or so men, he will have the manpower to storm the place should Strange refuse him. They'll hold another few weeks, a month even most likely. They'll surely be on high defense now, expecting me. I'll let them tire, eventually they'll grow weary of standing there all night in the gloomy halls by themselves and might leave their place for an hour seeking company or simply to complete rounds of the halls. That is when I'll strike. Do not fret Ned, I'll find the truth of this plot."

There had been no more quarreling of the matter after that. Ned and Bruce stayed up another two hours talking over everything from tales of Ned and Thomas' youth to the matter of King Robert's peril from the threat of the Lannisters. Dick and Arya fought tirelessly on the other side of the cave until Ned finally rose and called Arya to bed. They were to leave early in the morning, as to avoid the eyes of anymore possible child thieves, or worse. Alfred would occasionally leave the cave and traverse up to Lady Sansa's quarters and sit and watch her sew. He felt distressed leaving the poor girl up in her chambers all day by herself. With Arya becoming privy to Bruce's secret he had allowed her down so long as Alfred or himself were present. Despite Bruce saying he would not train the girl, Dick had taken up the task with spirit and practiced with her from midday to when Lord Eddard called on her for bed.

The night past, Sansa and he had discussed weddings and princes. Alfred told her of the beautiful Dornish weddings he had attended in his youth, and of the time he had seen Prince Rhaegar at a tourney in King's Landing. Of his flowing white hair and deep violet eyes, and how skilled he was with a blade and knowledgeable with his mind. Sansa had listened with rapt attention, she loved tales of noble knights and happy endings so. With the Starks to bed the cave had grown quiet. Dick, Bruce, Lucius and Alfred all sat around Bruce's large oak table and shared a glass of wine, save for Dick of course.

"So Nigma gives you a bat riddle and you think he knows who you are?" Lucius asked.

Bruce nodded in response. "Subtlety is not an art Edward Nigma is skilled in, intelligent as he may be. It is rather cunning, painting sell swords up to appear as Joker's men. Since he's still alive, it appears Joker wasn't overly trifled by the matter. I know not whether that bodes well for us or ill."

"If the Joker favors it, I'd wager ill," Dick said, balancing one of his steel poles on his finger. Bruce snatched it from his grasp before the boy could so much as blink. _Swiftest cripple I have ever seen, to be sure._

"The Joker and Nigma shall hold until the morrow. Master Bruce. I believe it is time for Batman and Robin to get some rest. The Starks leave early in the morning, and I would think not that their hosts wish them to have exhaustion in their eyes when they depart." Rather than argue, Bruce chuckled and nodded in agreement. He led the boy up the pathway and out of sight shortly thereafter.

"Quite a pair those two make don't they?" Lucius asked, finishing his wine. Alfred smiled a wide, sincere smile and nodded. _They certainly do._

Alfred had slept peacefully and undisturbed through the night, and now as he pulled back the curtains in Thomas Wayne's study to let the morning light wash over the room, he felt more at peace than he had in quite some time. He turned to face this former master's marble bust. A g_ood morrow to you Thomas_. For nearly fifteen years after Thomas Wayne's death, Alfred would always call him Master Thomas in his mind whenever he thought of his late lord. But now, with Bruce beginning to bring about a light of hope in this city and Alfred's growing peace of mind with the young man's decision, he could finally let that go. He thought of Thomas fondly, but now he viewed them as equals, no longer lord and servant, but brothers, fathers to a single son. _Equals, but that is how you always viewed us isn't it, old friend. And now, your son is mine to care for, I am no father in league with you, but I try with every muscle in my body to do what you would have wanted me to do._ Alfred rubbed his hand over the smooth top of Thomas Wayne's marble head.

"I miss his wisdom most days." Alfred heard from behind him. He turned to face Lord Eddard as he stepped into the room to gaze upon the marble head. The Northern lord smiled as he looked upon the likeness of his old friend. "I could use his words now more than ever," Eddard finished.

"You are not alone in that, my lord," Alfred agreed. The two of them stared at the marble head for a few minutes in silence, both wondering how things would be different should their friend still be alive today. When Alfred had had his fill of the unmoving white eyes, he placed a hand on the Lord Hand's shoulder. "Lord Stark, I wish to show you something." Eddard nodded apprehensively.

Alfred led him out into the hall and through the main doors to the open air. The morning was cool, shadows still coated the yard in darkness as the sun just began to poke above the far off horizon. Alfred turned right and paced off along the castle. A small stone structure stood fifty paces from the castle's south-most corner, right where the high grass began to sprout serving as buffer between the trimmed grass and the towering castle wall that formed a U around the castle's front and ended at the cliff's face to its rear. The structure was a darker shade of stone than the castle, almost purely black as opposed to the dusky onyx hue of the castle's bricks. There was a single iron door permitting entrance to the small little structure that was no bigger than a privy. As Lord Eddard grew closer however he walked to its side to see that the structure's rear angled itself into the ground.

"A tunnel," he remarked. Alfred said nothing. As he reached the door, Alfred looked up to the stone creature overlooking the entranceway. While the castle's roof had gargoyles gnarling their teeth or raising their claws to the sun, this passageway was guarded by a large iron bat with outstretched wings. Alfred opened the door and led his guest beneath the ground.

When they reached the end of the slate stairs, a row of marble figures lined the right side of a long tunnel that's end was shrouded by darkness. Alfred took a torch from its stand and led Lord Eddard into the tunnel to show him what he had intended. The light of the fire danced off of the white faces as they passed, making their eyes appear alive if but for a passing moment. There was always a man and woman side by side, holding hands. _Lord Darius and Lady Alarya, Lord Solomon and Lady Dorothea, Lord Kenneth and Lady Laura,_ Alfred recounted as they passed the figures. Bruce was the ninth generation of Wayne to live in this castle, and most of his ancestors' remains now laid here. There were spaces left abandoned however. As they passed the first, Alfred remembered the tale of Mad Anthony Wayne and the horrors he had committed in his lifetime. _They never did find the body in the bay. _

"A tomb, such as Winterfell's. For the final resting places of the Waynes. Winterfell's however has only the lords, save for my sister," the Northern Lord commented as they walked down the stone corridor. Their footsteps echoed, telling the rats of their coming and making them scurry off as the light grew closer. As they reached the end of the catacombs, the Waynes grew more and more familiar. _Lord Patrick and Lady Etylia, and now…_ Alfred stopped before the last two statues in the chain of marble Waynes. Thomas' mustache looked as finely kept in stone as it was in life. Martha's hair was carved back into a bun as she often kept it when she lived. Their eyes reflected the caring that they showed in life as well. _The stonemason should have been paid in gold for accomplishing that feat. _

"Why did you wish to show me this?" Lord Eddard asked. Alfred gave a meager smile, trying to appear pleasant. "It is not the likenesses of my former lord and lady that I wish to show you Lord Eddard. It is this."

Alfred took another few steps to their left, halting in front of the empty void yet to be filled to Thomas and Martha's right. "What do you think of Bruce's quest now Lord Stark?"

He did not turn to face the Lord Hand, but Alfred was sure he had a look of confusion showing in his brow and eyes. "I am not sure what to make of it, as of yet. He can do more than Ser Gordon and his men to be sure, but it comes at such a cost…He should not be placing the boy in harm's way, whether Dick thinks he wishes this path or not. He is but three-and-ten! Not old enough to know what paths lay before him!"

Alfred turned to face him now. "And Bruce was but nine. I have not come to plead with you to understand Bruce's decisions. I support him in allowing the boy to take up the mantle of Robin. Do I wish for a day when they will not need their masks and capes? By the Seven yes, yes with every last wisp of flame in my soul, but fate has thrown its dice. Will that day come? I cannot be sure. Perhaps Bruce will find a woman that will be magnificent enough to draw him from that dark cave of his. Perhaps he will succeed in his mission to save the city, and be able to retire his cape with dignity and a sense of achievement. Or maybe, one day a criminal will get the best of him, or he won't move quick enough, Dick won't be there to take on the one thug Bruce turned his back to, and he will end up here." The servant gestured to the empty space before them.

Ned gave an abrupt wave of his hand in frustration. "It's his own blindness that prevents him from moving on. Whether you support him or not Alfred, I cannot support him putting a mere boy in the way of danger such as this."

"Is it so different from boys going off to war for a lord they have never met? For glory they will never receive? For an early grave they do not want?"

The lord took a step back and wiped his brow. _He is a good man, with a strong heart_. Ned spoke, "I cannot speak for other boys. War is old men talking, and young boys dying. I am well aware of the fact, but boys seeking glory is one matter, boys running from anguish is another. Dick is not _dealing_ with the loss of his parents, he is hiding beneath a mask just as Bruce has. Were it _my _sons…"

Alfred cut him off briskly. "But it is _not_ your son Lord Eddard. If I may speak plainly my lord, you worry over your sons, and I will worry over _mine_. Bruce is as precious to me as he was to his own mother and father. I swore to them I would _protect_ him, and I am striving my hardest to not fail them! And Dick, such a sweet boy. Of course I did not want Bruce's life for him, but he has chosen it and I must deal with it as best I can. If I must make a vow to his dead parents I shall, but I will try my hardest to protect him as if he were my own.

_This _space in front of us, this is where this path leads. If Bruce continues on down this path he will be _here_ with no heirs, no women to miss his touch, no city that will cry at his passing. They will mourn the Batman, but no one will know how great the man behind that pointed helmet was. How beautiful of a child he was, how honorable and determined his soul was, how wise and quick his mind was. They will only know the legend, and only I shall mourn the man behind it. Your daughters and sons, they will grow to be _great_ lords, knights, and ladies. They will die beloved and with a family left behind to mourn and miss them with each passing day. Do not be frustrated with his decisions for his life, simply be glad that they are not your sons that will end their lives alone down here," Alfred finished. He was panting, not realizing his voice had grown to a shout with his final sentences. Alfred collected himself and swallowed regretfully. "Forgive me my lord, I was out of place-"

Ned raised a hand for silence. "There is nothing to apologize for, Alfred. You were a father, defending the actions of his sons." The cold northern lord gave a small smile to show that there was no bad blood between them. _The truth of it is…this man before me can see this all through my eyes better than any other man alive._ They stood staring at the vacant space for what felt like hours, but in truth was closer to a few minutes.

Eventually they returned from the dark trench beneath the earth to the light of day, the sun now revealing more of itself as the day dawned. They found Bruce breaking his fast with the children with a hurriedly thrown together meal of bacon, eggs and bread. The bacon was burned, the eggs seemed runny, and the bread appeared stale. When Alfred raised his brow upon seeing the state of their meal, Bruce replied with a boyish smile, "The next time I mock you for your duties Alfred, you have my permission to give me a crack over the head." Alfred responded within a heartbeat with a loud smack to the back of his master's head. Bruce looked up in puzzled irritation. The Dornishman smiled. "My apologies Ser, merely making up for lost time and past mockeries."

They finished their meal and proceeded out to the wagon waiting for them. The twenty guardsmen that had come with them had been staying in a local inn but were now armored and ready to return the Starks to King's Landing safely. Alfred had wondered at first why the men did not simply stay in the castle, but after remembering the long reach of Lord Varys he had agreed with Bruce's thought to pay for their stay elsewhere. The Dornishman wondered if Bruce regretted his decision after Arya's kidnapping.

Alfred stood at the carriage's entrance to help the girls step up into the wooden cabin. Sansa gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek as he helped her step up. It warmed his heart, he had always wished the Waynes would have a daughter when they were alive. _A lovely queen she will make._ Alfred turned back to see Dick give a parting embrace to Arya. He whispered something in her ear to make her throw a fist to his shoulder. Alfred helped her step up to which he was replied with another hug. He turned back to see that Dick was somberly staring at the wagon, undoubtedly hoping that they need not return to King's Landing and could stay longer. _He will be quite lonely without her here to cause trouble with. _Alfred looked on as Ned and Bruce finally made their way to the carriage. Ned gave his host a warm embrace and let his head linger to whisper something in the young man's ear. Bruce smiled, not a fake smile as he had grown accustomed to emitting, but sincere. _Such a pleasant sight._ Ned gave him a final pat on his shoulder and left him to follow his daughters into the carriage's cabin. He approached Dick and knelt to give the boy a pat on the shoulder and spoke quietly enough that only Alfred could hear. "Stay strong Dick, one day you will cast a shadow that towers over other men, I'm sure of it. You have my sincerest thanks, for bringing my daughter back to me."

Dick remained speechless, mouth slightly gaping open. "Y-your welcome, my lord."

Ned smiled and stood, growing closer to the horse drawn carriage and finally to Alfred's side. He embraced the servant with strong open arms and whispered, "Thank you for your words Alfred. Thomas and Martha were right to leave the boy in your care. I know you will not fail." He leaned back to meet eyes with Alfred. Ned's two daughters were looking on curiously, so Alfred simply replied with, "It was a pleasure having you my lord, and you have my thanks for the kindness you have shown me."

Ned chuckled as he stepped into the cabin, "If I were Bruce, you would have replied with some quick witted jape and a hand to the back of my head. May you find peace of mind my friend." Alfred allowed himself a smile, "And to you as well, my lord."

The carriage pulled forward and off down the hill and out of sight. The three of them stood in silence and watched even after the carriage had dipped beneath the crest of the hill. The wind blew the tall grass lining the cobblestone path in waves, transforming it into a sea of grass parted by a flat stream of stone. Finally Bruce turned from the view, and began limping towards the castle. Dick followed a few moments later, running to catch up with Bruce as they passed beneath the castle walls and into the yard. Alfred lingered a few minutes longer, watching the sun rise and imagining he could see the Starks depart. _You will be sorely missed here Lord Eddard Stark, you brought a ray of hope and warmth to this gloomy city. May your life be filled with the warmth you showed within Wayne Castle's walls. _Alfred finally turned with a kind-hearted smile and followed his masters back to their castle on the hill.

* * *

_**Selina**_: Chapter 16

A week had passed since the Starks had left Gotham. Thieves still stole, rapers still raped, killers still killed, and the city pressed on as if nothing had changed. But Selina knew changes were mounting on the horizon, to crash into the valley like the waves of a flood. Gordon was strengthening his forces, by greater than a thousand men if the local rumors could be believed. Lord Wayne had graciously bestowed more gold upon him, after the Stark girl's kidnapping blunder. Both the Lannister men and Gordon's failed at saving the girl and capturing the Batman. They were rewarded for their efforts with scratches, bite marks, and an assortment of infections. She knew Batman had tricks in that belt of his, but even a way of summoning a horde of bats seemed unbelievable.

Then there was the boy. The one that was rumored to have beat the lot of Arya Stark's kidnappers and rode off into the night with the girl safely in hand. They had not been seen since that night. Batman was probably nursing his wounds, a man doesn't survive a burning building and troop of Lannister men without taking a few wounds. It was said the boy wore bright colors, red and green and yellow as opposed to Batman's black and gray. _What an odd pairing they make._

Selina's mind had been troubled less and less by the comings and goings of Batman. Aside from that night, he had only stopped by twice before, once for any word of Joker's location and the other for if there was any word from the brothels of the Lannister men. To both requests she had nothing to give. In her recent forays into the night she had been in her black leather garments and more concerned with lords' priceless belongings than the talk on the street. She felt more like herself now. She was Selina again, no longer the weak shell of a girl she had become in that cell after Holly's death. In truth, she felt as if she was still shackled in a cell during the day, and only felt free at night when running amongst the rooftops and shadows.

In truth she had heard some words of the Lannisters' doings, but did not feel like sharing it with tall, dark and icy. They had taken the men that kidnapped Arya Stark into Arkham, but had not seen them since. None were allowed to see them save for Hugo Strange himself, the warden behind Arkham's dark iron gates. Selina found it strange, but paid no more mind to the matter.

Last night she had stolen from some drunken smugglers on their way back from an alehouse. A few of them had tried to put up a fight, but their sluggish movements proved no match for her quick, feline reflexes. A heel to one's groin, a whip's lash to another's face, slamming the last two's heads together, it was child's play. They didn't have much, a few gold coins, some silver, a rather costly ring forged to appear as a serpent constricting the bearer's finger. _It keeps my children and I fed_.

Selina opened the wooden shudders to her window letting the sun cascade in. It washed over the creaky floorboards, the dusty tabletop, and the silk beddings and sheets. Her cats stirred, stretched, and mewed out in a collective crying wail at the sudden light. Selina smirked and looked back to them. "Oh hush, the lot of you, the suns been up for nearly three hours now. Our day begins," she retorted as she looked out at the street below. Her abode as at the end of the street, with the surrounding buildings used for storage for the smiths of the next street over. Few people came down this far, leaving her to herself most days, and with no onlookers at night when she returned. As she gazed out upon the cobbled streets and grey bricked or wooden buildings, she saw a rare oddity. There between the rows of buildings lining the street was a man slowly approaching, his shadow stretching twenty paces ahead of him. Selina's brow piqued. _This can't be good._ She moved to her bedside drawer and pulled out her dagger.

When she opened the door on the first floor and gazed out upon the street, the stranger was but thirty paces from her. She held the dagger behind her back, in case she might have need of it. _Yet to be seen how much good it will do me, _she thought as she noticed how large her stranger was as he neared. He wore a plain wool tunic and breeches, toting a full burlap sack over his shoulder. He was a tall man, seemingly as tall as Batman, with a thick black beard covering his lower face and most of his neck. His arms were thick, his chest was rather broad, and yet he still had a certain sleekness to him. Matching jet black hair coated his scalp and fell down to cover his forehead in matted curls. As the man grew closer, Selina could see both his skin and hair were coated in sweat, he had been walking for quite some time. Finally he stopped before Selina at her doorway, letting his bag drop to the street and breathed a sigh of relief. Selina could see a golden linked chain around his neck dipping down beneath his tunic. _That looks valuable. _

The man wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed his hair back before speaking. "Good day m'lady, I was wondering if I might be able to stay a few nights here. I'm to take a ship down to Oldtown, but that's still a week away. I can't afford to sleep in the inns but a lovely woman on the street pointed me here. I can pay you what I can, or I can work my way if that's what you require."

Selina put the back of her hand up to her mouth and chuckled behind it. "And what if I say no, ser? This is no inn, this is my home. I do not take on guests to stay the night, especially some sweat addled stranger, to dirty my home. So I must sadly decline."

The man smiled, a genuinely sincere smile at that. _A rare sight in this city_. She paused a moment and continued, "You're not from around here I gather."

The stranger nodded. "Aye m'lady, just arrived this afternoon. I was lucky enough to hitch a ride from a traveling merchant on his way to Highgarden and rode with him there. Sadly, I had to walk the rest of the way to this fine city."

She laughed without minding social niceties to the comment. "You surely aren't from Gotham if you find it fine. Why here? Why not try and stay in some smith's stead and work for him for a week. I have no chores that need tending to here, so I have no use for you unfortunately. Surely you weren't attempting to warm my bed were you, ser?"

The man's cheeks reddened slightly as he shook his head. "No m'lady, but you were false. I can see things that need tending from here. You have some loose shingles on your roof that will leak, should they not be repaired soon. The frame of this window to my right is loosely nailed and could easily be pried off. I'm sure there's more inside that could use a hand as well. Smiths have boys to apprentice for them and do their bidding. They have no need for a weary stranger. You on the other hand, a strong, independent woman like you surely would never go to another man for aid. So here I am, coming to you," he finished with a smile. _He has a beard, a smile, those same bright blue eyes…could he be?_

She leaned closer to inspect him, but ultimately determined he was not Batman in disguise as he was all those nights ago when Holly had attacked him. "Who are you?"

"Simply call me traveler, or ser, or whatever you prefer, m'lady."

Selina scoffed, "If you are to stay you will refrain from calling me m'lady.' It makes me sound as if I were an old hag. I do not know why men insist on using such social idiocies. Women have names, you can surely use them. Mine is Selina."

"_Selina_. Well I shall call you as such from now on. So when shall I begin?" Whenever the stranger smiled, his already well-defined cheek bones tightened even further, his teeth were blindingly white. _His teeth are too white, he smells, and he appears as a sweaty pig, so long as he does his work I'll tolerate him._

She returned his smile with one of her own. "Immediately."

* * *

**Bruce**: Chapter 25

_Fifteen years, that cannot be_. Bruce slid his arm through his finest satin doublet, trimmed with cloth-of-gold and his family's sigil flapping upon its breast. He moved to the bedside table, wincing in pain as the weight slid onto his injured leg. He could walk with greater ease now, but had a few days yet before he would be running across rooftops. He lifted from the table a small metal badge and held it up into the sunlight to look upon it. It was a small, rounded tin emblem, as wide as two of his fingers. The bat of House Wayne was carved into it, with an outer circle rounding its perimeter. Words were etched into the border; _From the Wall to the Jade Sea, the sun will not set on you, my son._ It was a gift from his father on his seventh nameday. Thomas Wayne had had it forged after Bruce's friend, Harvey Dent's, mother had died. Bruce grew worried of what would become of him should one of his own parents die. The gods were cruel beings, as the question became more a realistic, than a hypothetical, worry a year later.

He took up his cane and proceeded out of his chambers and down the marble stairwell to the front doors where Alfred and Dick stood waiting. Dick was dressed finely as well, a matching doublet covered his torso but had the robin of Grayson stitched into it. Alfred was also at his finest, wearing his best black doublet and paired waistcoat that Thomas Wayne had gotten as a gift for his old friend before his death. Dick's face was riddled with confusion, but he stayed himself from asking for what occasion they dressed so finely for. Alfred's face on the other hand, was chiseled from stone, his brow tight, his lip unwavering, and his eyes not leaving Bruce as he descended. _I know your pain as well old friend, I have not forgotten. _

When Bruce arrived at the bottom of the stairs he nodded to Alfred and led them out through the doors and to the waiting carriage in the yard. It pulled forward and rolled under the castle wall's gate and down the hill towards Gotham. Bruce watched wordlessly as the fields of grass dancing off to the right side of the carriage blew in waves like an ocean of green. Hundreds of thousands of little blades shuffled against each other and rattled as the summer winds buffeted over them. In the distance the tall walls of the city could be seen lining the its limits. The walls were queer in concern to most cities', in that they had no particular shape. Most city walls surrounded the city in a circle, or half-moon for ones on the shore. Gotham's however curved in and out, as his ancestor Lawrence Wayne had deemed fit. Lawrence was the third generation of Wayne to rule over Gotham since its founding in his grandfather's life. Bruce's father had told him that it was said that Lawrence was a rather odd fellow, choosing to build the walls in an odd configuration so as to best stretch and give the city room to grow.

On the landward side, the wall stretched from the northern end of the bay where the cliffs began to rise, out towards the city's center in an ellipse before it then grew rigid and followed along in a straight line. When it carried past the city's end, the wall continued on, shallowly bowing to and fro to accommodate the hills and forests of Gotham's southern end, where Wayne Castle resided. Lawrence's grandsire, Marcus, thought it best to continue the wall along, parting the woods in two and ending close to a quarter of a league from Wayne Castle's right. The halved woods meeting Wayne Castle's southern walls shielded the narrow entrance to the waterfall passage into the cave. On the opposite side of the castle, densely packed woods stretched out for near a half a league until the trees lessened where the city bricks and buildings began to sprout up. These woods were the ones to guard the tunnel entrance to the cave, and served as its quicker entrance but risked more attention. Bruce knew deer, rabbits, badgers, turkeys, foxes, and even a few boars still ran wild through the two groupings of woods that lay split by the grassy fields and winding path up to his castle. Any wolves had long since been hunted down and skinned.

Gotham's landward wall stretched for over two leagues, the longest single wall in Westoros. The bayside wall was roughly two thirds that length, curving from where the cliffs first rose up from the flat of the beach across the beach to the bay's opposite side where those cliffs started to rise as well. Towards the northern end of the bay the wall looped out into the water, where Amadeus Arkham had chosen to build his nightmarish castle so many years ago. The ports of Gotham were always bustling with merchants, sailors, weary travelers, exotic treasures, beasts and gold, and the smallfolk flocked to it like moths to a flame. The ports were Gotham's main feature, and the key to the Wayne's wealth. Other lords collected taxes from their people, the Waynes merely taxed the merchants that had come to Gotham in hopes of finding themselves a small fortune.

Since the Prince of Gotham's return, twice as many ships now held port in Gotham Bay, with room for twice that number still remaining. The city was slowly regaining its feet again, and soon would once more walk among the likes of Casterly Rock and King's Landing in terms of people and business. With more gold flowing in, Bruce would be able to grant Gordon at least another thousand men, some of which best be put on the wall. Gotham had long since left its landward walls to their own ends for most of its length. Now only a dozen or so men stood guard at its top, all stationed at points between or around the only two landward gates into the city. Gotham had not been challenged since Aegon's arrival at the city three centuries ago, and even then, Alan Wayne merely bent at the knee to spare his people, and willingly let Aegon and his sister wives walk through the streets to behold the city's dark beauty for themselves.

"Master Bruce, we're here," Alfred stated, pulling Bruce from his mental history lesson. _Already? Fifteen years and I'm still not ready._ Bruce silently nodded and stepped down from the carriage bed. Dick leapt down and landed as quietly as a mouse, while Alfred followed last and close the door behind them. He gazed up at the buildings, seeing how the dark stones had faded in his long absence. _Or perhaps it is only my memory of this place, painting the scene so vividly with every recounting. _Bruce shook his head and limped forward into the alley. Ten armored guardsmen sat on their horses behind the wagon in wait. Bruce argued vehemently against it, but Alfred thought that after the recent attacks and Joker's still unknown whereabouts that having guards would be the safest choice. As he entered the side alley, he remembered that night so many years ago. A young boy knelt but thirty paces from where Bruce now stood, two bodies sprawled out before him in peaceful eternal slumber.

The street they had just came in on was now titled _Crime Alley,_ as it has sunken from its high stature from fifteen years ago into a desolate place where criminals came to hide from the wandering eyes of the law. This side alley was nameless, only forty feet long and now littered with rats and leftover or unwanted spoils, furnishings, or other useless and broken items. Where those bodies laid fifteen years ago however, that spot of slated stone was spotless.

Bruce turned back to his servant who only nodded in silence as he took the small wooden box from his hand and held it out to his lord. Bruce reached out, pausing as his fingertips brushed against the dark stained, smooth surface of the slender box. It was no wider then Bruce's wrist, and no longer than his forearm. He took the box from the Dornishman, turned silently, and limped over to the cleared spot of street stone. He knelt, pain slowly beginning to set fire in his leg, but he stayed motionless and determined. He opened the little box, folding its top back and setting it to the side as he took up its contents in his other hand. Two crimson roses, beautifully bloomed with luscious petals parting out like waves. _More beautiful than that of the Tyrell's sigil. _He held them by their stalks, and stared into them for a while before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bruce did not need to turn to know it was Alfred; this day was just as hard for him as it was for Bruce. Dick stood over his left shoulder, silent in his solemnness as he now understood the reason for coming to such a dark, melancholy place.

Bruce laid the roses down upon the dark stone. He laid a hand on the stone feeling it drain the warmth from it before he finally struggled to stand. Alfred tried to assist him, but Bruce shook his head and found the strength to do it himself. He limped back to the carriage, his head hung low, his eyes never leaving the stone beneath his feet. Once the three of them were back in the carriage, it jerked forward and turned off, back towards Wayne Castle.

"Master Bruce, I believe there is something, _more_, to be done," Alfred finally said after ten minutes of silence. Bruce looked up to him. "And what more would that be, Alfred?"

"This day is a solemn one, and has been every single year I've been in that castle by myself. I'm sure it was the same for you, out in the world on your own, with no one knowing where and what you came from. I believe rather than simply sitting in silent remembrance and mourning, we should do something to give the people _hope_. They've had Tywin Lannister invade and take the city with an iron fist without so much as a drop of blood in the process. They have witnessed the violent murders of more than six centuries of men at the hands of a white faced madman. Rapes, murders, young Lady Stark's kidnapping! This city has seen so much bloodshed and turmoil these last six months alone…I think we need to hold a celebration. One celebrating how resilient the people of the city are!"

"And should the Joker arise to ruin the festivities as he did the last time a grand feast was thrown?" Bruce questioned. Alfred thought a moment before replying, "You said that the chests of poisonous gas he intended to let loose upon the smallfolk was truly heads, correct? And at the feast he only poisoned the Lannister men. Despite him being mad, Master Bruce, I don't believe he intends to kill _Gotham_ people by the thousands. In his own way, I believe he was trying to deter outsiders from the city so that it remained his little grounds to play upon. Killing that many Gotham smallfolk? It would surely bring too much attention to himself, attention that he would not want."

_He is trying to put himself in the mind of a madman. Careful old friend, do that too often and you may just lose yourself in it. _"Very well, we will host a celebration three weeks from tonight. No feasting, no dispensing of wine or drinks. Have the people bring their own wine and ale, and those that can't…have Lucius oversee the brewing at an alehouse of his choosing, particularly one as far away from the Narrows as possible. And I want Gordon notified and as many of his men as possible present, or we'll take back our gift of gold. We'll provide music and entertainment, dancers, singers, and see if any fire breathers or jugglers are at port. If we are to do this, we will do it as such to keep the people safe."


	42. James 21: Harvey 2: Selina 17

_**James**_: Chapter 21

The night air was cool, it felt good on James' skin after working in the warm keep all day. He had been sifting through lists of men to potentially join his ranks, and the task had taken him from sun rise to well into the night. James had found nearly eight hundred of the twelve hundred he could take on. They were to be notified within the next week, and training was to begin a week from tonight. Bullock was to oversee the training. He was a hard man and would surely whip them into shape.

In the distance he could hear the sound of drunken men singing, wheels rolling across the stone street, a dog barking. James could see and hear much from up on the keep's foremost turret overlooking its entrance. The building was oddly shaped, a square save for the front most walls coming to a triangular point. Turrets rose up from the roof at the front, and two rear corners of the building. There was usually one man posted in the front turret where James was standing, but he had taken his place for the night and sent the guard off with a glass of ale. James wanted, _needed_ to be alone for this.

He stood in wait for nearly an hour before they finally came. First he heard the _chink_ of the steel bolt head embedding itself into the turret's wall. Then he heard the faint patting of footsteps on the stone as they made their way up. James smirked and drank from his bottle of brew as he watched Batman and the newly crowned Robin make their ways over the ledge and onto the turret's flat floor. "You must be losing your touch, I heard you coming this time," James said with a smirk as he leaned against one of the three upraised walls around the turret's perimeter.

Batman looked as stone and stoic as always, giving no reaction to James' taunt. The boy however was curious looking. He wore a red vest with pale green sleeves and leggings all made of boiled leather. He wore a black mask tied off at the back of his head in a knot, to hide his identity. His arms and legs were adorned with green boots and gloves, and a yellow cape lay against his back. The boy's hair was black and straight, brushed back with a few loose strands curling about his forehead. The top of his head only came up to the bottom of Batman's chest.

James took notice of the golden _R_ emblem upon his chest. "So you're this Robin I've heard so much about. You two were rather quiet for a while there, but I've heard you have since stirred these last few nights." James turned to address Batman, "How did you find him? Seems rather contrary to the dark, menacing look you've been striving for."

The boy smiled, appreciating James' jape. Batman stood solemn as ever. "I recieved your message," James said as he took the bat-shaped throwing knife from his pocket. A torn piece of parchment with the word _roof_ was stabbed through the middle by one of the bladed wing tips. He tossed it to Robin, who caught it with a wry grin. James continued, "So a man dressed as a bat, and a boy…I'm sorry son, what are you supposed to be again?"

"I'm not supposed to be anything. I'm Robin," the boy declared, forgoing his smirk to try and take up his partner's stoicism. _A bat and a robin…well the boy does appear to have the same height and hair color as the Grayson boy._ James nodded and turned to look at Batman, "Ah, of course. So what did you have to tell me then?"

"We believe Nigma was involved in Arya Stark's kidnapping. The whole scene didn't reek of Joker's work. Joker acts brutally and makes himself shown, he loves the light shining on him. He wouldn't hire men to take the girl and run away with her into a back alley. He'd do it himself and let the entire city see. This was a ploy to try and capture me. Those men that Strange is holding must know the truth of it, or too much for them to walk free or stay in your own jails. I fear Strange may be in bed with this conspiracy as well. Should that be the case, then Tywin still has a grip on our city," the pointed helmed man responded.

_Well that's a frightening thought._ It painted a much clearer picture then Joker kidnapping the girl certainly, but still… "If your words are true, then you, and this city, aren't safe. If they get their hands on you, either of you…"

"They won't."

The boy nodded his head in agreement. _They can't be so sure. Nigma may be irritating but his mind seems unparalleled. And this Hugo Strange…he operates from the shadows far too much for my liking. Their schemes could unravel everything._ "Nigma has been gone more, as of late. We know not where, he says he can't busy himself with sparing words to men of such low intellect. I may not be the wisest dog in the pack, but I can sure stand my ground against a stick of a man such as him. What do we do now?"

"I will sneak into Arkham, and see if I can't discover Hugo's secrets or what those men know. _You _continue hunting me," Batman replied.

"_Us_," the boy added.

James nodded once more. "Right, well I'll get to it then. You two best disappear. Sarah said she was going to come up to refill my cup within the hour."

"Evening, Gordon," Batman finished before vaulting over the ledge. The boy leapt and did a back flip through the air, landing perfectly on the flattened ledge. "Don't spend too long up here, the men might begin to talk, Ser Gordon," the boy teased. Before James could rebuke, he had done another back flip and disappeared out of sight. James took a final swig from the bottle, emptying it, as he looked up at the stars above his head. He remembered lying with his father in the grass on clear summer nights such as this in his youth. _Dark and brooding, and youthful and brazen, what a pair those two will make._

* * *

_**Harvey**_: Chapter 2

"So the Stark boy's awoke? Quite the miracle it would seem." Jaime shifted in his seat, something the Kingslayer only did when something troubled his mind, which was rarely.

"It would seem so. His Northern gods must have some shred of cruel sympathy for crippling the boy only to let him live out the rest of his years. He's but half of his former self," Jaime Lannister replied coolly.

Harvey smirked and swirled his wine about in his glass. "I would rather live as a half of myself than not at all." Now Jaime chuckled, "I suppose for most, it would depend on the half."

They sat at a table overlooking the city from a balcony of the Red Keep. It was a bright, clear day and the sounds of shouting and bustling smallfolk could be heard echoing up from the streets below. The two of them often drank here when they could find time away from their duties. They were drinking an Arbor red today, the last three times had been gold. Those were all during Eddard Stark's month long departure from the city.

The Lord Hand had returned yesterday, his two daughters safely in tow. The King was outraged at the news of Arya's kidnapping, even after Lord Eddard tried quelling the fire. "Your Grace, the Batman saved her, she is unharmed. There is no need to send an army to Gotham's gates."

"Damnit all Ned, you know as well as I do that that city is a volcano just waiting to blow and spew shit over the rest of the kingdom. When that thing goes off, who knows how far that storm will reach! I want the city under control and Lord Wayne to get off his ass and do a damned thing to help it!" King Robert shouted so fiercely spittle flew from his mouth. Even Queen Cersei flinched at the unexpected roaring.

"Your Grace, Gotham is a delicate city. The balance there is one that any change could overthrow it, a lesson Lord Tywin learned at a dear cost." The Queen's eyes narrowed. Harvey knew there was little love between the Lannisters and Starks, and with Eddard seemingly defending the masked vigilante and the Lannisters wanting his head on a stake, tensions were at a boiling point. He wasn't sure for how much longer this inevitable clash between lions and wolves could be held off, but he felt it would come to a head sooner rather than later.

Cersei rose from her seat and seethed at Eddard, "Lord Eddard, my lordfather's men were brutally killed at the hands of that, that _freak_. He deserves to be compensated for his losses, and should have the right to seize Gotham should he wish it."

Eddard smirked, "Your Grace, I was there, I saw the way the city twists and turns. Even if your father were to take the city, he would not remain long, but of course, he is welcome to try. With the Joker still on the loose, who knows what he could be concocting, should Lord Tywin try to take Gotham once more."

Cersei's face contorted in pure hate before the King rose and silenced his wife with a glare. He turned back to face Lord Stark. "Ned, I'll need to do something about that damned pit eventually. I know the Bat-whatever saved your girl, but with him and Joker running about free without answering to anything it's just pure chaos. I can't stand for that Ned, not in my kingdom."

"But it poses no harm to us, Your Grace. Joker merely was defending what he marked as his territory. Lord Tywin would have done the same, or I if it were Winterfell, or you if it were this city. Batman will stop him, just as he saved my daughter."

The King sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Do you trust him Ned? With all of that?" The Lord Hand nodded. "Very well, I won't intervene for the time being, but so help me if I hear another peep of some new mad killer or another masked hero from that damned city I'll burn it to the ground myself!"

And that had been the end of it. Cersei had tried to argue, but a roar from her husband and she was quieted within the next breath. The next day a raven flew in from Winterfell saying his young son Bran had awoken from his sleeping after his fall. A curious thing the boy's fall was. For how Lord Eddard had explained, the boy had never fallen before. Jaime said the day was clear, with no rain for a few days. _So how did the boy fall, it is too queer to form a shred of sense. _

As Harvey sat drinking with his friend now, he couldn't help but have an odd feeling creep down his spine. He had known Jaime for quite a few years, and he could tell when he was lying or hiding something. Whenever anyone spoke of that day, Jaime grew rigid and only ever stared forward. Harvey had only noticed one other topic that made the golden haired Kingslayer behave as such, his sister. Harvey had his suspicions, but dared not dive too far into matters that did not warrant attention. His duty was to the realm, and to insure that every person that came before the king was heard.

Harvey finished his drink as they heard footsteps hurrying up the stone stairwell inside the castle. A few moments later, Lord Stark's personal guardsman Jory Cassel stepped into the sunlight, gasping for breath. Harvey offered him a drink of water to calm himself.

"O-officer Dent, Lord Stark wishes to see you in his chambers, immediately," he blurted out once he had downed the drink. Harvey smiled. "And who am I to refuse our weary and well-traveled Lord Hand. Until the next we meet, my friend." Jaime rose and gave Harvey a pat on the shoulder and a smile before leaving up the stairs. Harvey followed Jory down. They crossed through corridors and down stairs then up until they arrived at Eddard's solar in the Tower of the Hand. Eddard met them at the door and dismissed Jory before letting Harvey in and closing the door behind him.

As he sat, Lord Stark sighed and spoke. "Tell me what you know of Gotham."

Harvey blinked in surprise. "Well my lord, it was a dreary place and not somewhere overly open to unwelcomed guests it would seem."

Eddard shook his head. "I am well aware of that ser, I wish to know what you know of the crime. The breed of criminals there and whether they truly can be stopped."

Harvey raised a finger to his lips as he thought over the northern Lord's question. "Gotham has its fair share of thieves, pickpockets, whores, thugs, rapers, same as any city. But then there are the select few…the breed of criminals that other cities, even King's Landing, would fear. Men such as this Joker, they are but the manifestation of this breed. They epitomize not only the worst aspects of a criminal, but the worst of man. Men that love killing so much that they dedicate their life to it, if for nothing more than the mere sight of bloodshed."

"That sounds rather similar to your friend Jaime Lannister, wouldn't you agree?"

Harvey's words caught in his throat. He had no way to return Lord Stark's words. It was true, Jaime did love killing, and was truly a master at it. _Damn you Jaime, without your rock of gold and father's iron guidance, would you have been nothing more than another Joker?_

Eddard noted Harvey's silence and took the opportunity to give his proposition. "I need you to return to Gotham. I cannot afford any more time from the city or my duties."

_No, do not make me return to that bottomless pit of depravity and corruption. _"What for my lord?"

"I need you to speak with Ser James Gordon of the City Watch. Before I left, Lord Wayne had given him enough gold for another thousand or so men. See if he is putting them to good use or has need of more. The rest, I need your word to keep between the two of us."

_A secret? This city is too full of damned secrets_. "Very well, my lord."

"I need you to see if you can speak with Batman. Lord Tywin has a small band of soldiers there, along with two figures who are rather questionable in their motives. He is the only one I trust for honest words of their actions. I know how weary you are to return to your home city, but this task is of the utmost important. There are too many spiders crawling around the shadows and corners of that city. You are the man to shed some light, I believe," Lord Eddard finished.

"You have the right of it my lord, that place is the last place that I wish to travel to in this life. Is this an order? When would you have me go if I were to accept?"

Eddard shook his head. "A fortnight from now, should you go." Harvey smirked, "Then I don't truly _have_ to go, but in the interest of fairness. I shall see what fate decides."

Harvey reached into the pocket on his waistcoat and withdrew a small piece of metal in hand. It was originally golden, but now was so faded that it appeared silvery-bronze. It was a Mereenese Honor, a small gold coin no larger than a Westorosi penny. A crown was carved into the upward side in Harvey's palm, but he knew that the head of death lie in wait on the downward face. It was a gift to his father from his grandfather when he returned from his travels to Essos. Harvey's father passed the coin on to him before his death shortly before he left Gotham. He rested the coin on his thumb and index finger, and gave it a flip. As it spun into the air, Harvey watched Lord Stark's eyes follow the small piece of gold up into the air, curious as to what side would land with its face up.

The coin landed in Harvey's palm, and in typical fashion, he slapped the palm onto the back of his opposite hand. When he raised his hand, a pit sank in his stomach at what he saw. Lord Stark tried straining his neck from his seat behind his desk to see the result, but to no avail.

Harvey swallowed and stood. "The head of death."

Eddard looked disappointed. "So which meant you would go and which would have you stay?"

Harvey moved to the door and opened it. He spoke without turning to face the Lord Hand, "My lord, the face of death is Gotham."

* * *

_**Selina**_: Chapter 17

For the first two days, Traveler had barely said anything. During the hours of the day he was out working for some smith or portsmen, or wandering the about the city for all she knew, and during the night he kept in his room. He supped alone, occasionally letting the cats into his room to sleep with him. Meelo had taken quite affectionately to the bearded stranger. He appeared to have a way with animals, as some nights he would walk about the first floor with Meelo or another cat perched on his broad shoulders. Selina paid no mind, his withdrawn nature made it easier for her to sneak out in the night to maraud and steal.

After he grew adjusted, he came out more frequently. On the fifth day of his stay, she returned from a day of buying food to find him shirtless and hammering away at one of her street level windows. He had been working for hours it seemed, as he was caked in sweat, and the other window looked more newly finished than it should have. The wood was the yellowish hue of newly cut oak, while the surrounding wall was faded, brown pine. She invited him in for a glass of wine, and since that day they had regularly supped and conversed for a few hours at dusk each day. Then he would go into his room for silent solitude while she donned her mask and took to the rooftops as Catwoman.

Three nights ago they had a conversation Selina only found to be inevitable. As Traveler finished his strip of beef and wine he smiled, and politely asked, "So tell me of this local legend of yours."

"_Legends_," Selina corrected. "There's two of them now, the dynamic duo I heard one say. Unless you were referring to Joker or Catwoman?"

He smiled. "No, no, you had the right of it. Have you seen this Batman?"

_In my hours as Selina Kyle, in my nights as Catwoman, in my dreams, and in my nightmares._ "Once, I saw him save a poor girl who was about to be raped and butchered, no doubt," Selina chose to reply.

Traveler questioned further. "What was he like?"

"Quick, self-righteous, ridiculously dressed." _Terrifying, cold, brooding, but incredible in his own way. Commanding a respect that no mortal man could. _

"You are not a fan," he chided with a smirk. Selina's mouth drew flat, "You could say that."

"I could also say that you seem to know more of him than you let on. I see no problem with an ordinary citizen standing for what he believes is right, no matter how many or how powerful those unsupportive of him are."

"I could say the same of yourself. All of the silver you've earned for your daily labor in the city has gone into repairing my home. Not a penny saved for this _ship_ you said you were waiting for. But yes you along with many others would believe in a man such as him. Myself, I think it is but a fool's errand, this city is beyond saving." Selina liked this stranger, but trusted him no farther than she did any other man in her life. Nor did he know this city, or the people within it.

The man playfully scoffed and held a hand to his heart. "Your words cut deep m'lady. I had thought we had found a pleasant, mutual coexistence with one another."

"We have, but as I recall you said your stay would only be temporary. It seems rather closer to long-term in my eyes," she replied coyly. The man nodded and smiled. "If that is what you wish, I shall take my leave in three days' time. Giving me the time to save up some silver for my departure, and finish repairing your roof."

Selina shook her head, "That will not be necessary, ser. Merely tell me what is on that golden necklace of yours that you hold so dearly, and you may stay."

Traveler raised a hand to the thin gold chain around his neck. A finger traced along it down to where it dipped beneath his tunic. Whenever he went topless to work in the heat of the sun, he would remove it. Whatever it was, it was some secret that he wanted no one to see. _Perhaps a finger of his first kill, or a rabbit's foot, or…_

He shook his head in dissent. "My apologies m'lady, but I cannot show you. Do not fret though, I had only planned to remain in Gotham for but a few weeks, so you have given me just what I needed. You are a most pleasant host."

_He would rather take to the road than show what is on the necklace? _Selina had been tempted one night to dare enter his room while he slept. After two steps into his room without so much as a creak from the floorboards, she heard his voice speak from the darkness, "Selina, is there something you need assistance with at this late hour?" Selina nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected noise. "No, no I was merely seeing if Meelo was in here. He got into a tussle with Tassya and I was going to check for any wounds," she lied. She still did not know how he had heard her.

Today was the day of his departure. She would miss Traveler a small degree. He was a warming character that gave her hope that good men still existed somewhere in this cruel world. He took no horse, no cloak or walking stick, merely the clothes on his back and large bag that he arrived with. Selina stood in her doorway as he looked out down the street for a few moments. He turned and gave her one last smile.

"Listen, I've never been good at farewells so-" Traveler cut her off as he took her up in a great hug. He lifted her a few inches from the street stone and gave her an embrace that made her feel as if her ribs would crack. His beard tickled against her cheek. As he returned her to her feet she looked up and bit her lip. "It's nearly nightfall, where will you stay?"

Traveler smiled that white toothed, sincere smile. "Oh I have a friend or two left to make in this city I'm sure. You were a most gracious host m'lady, you have my sincerest thanks. You have a kind heard despite the walls you build up. I hope someday you let them down, you'd certainly be the happier for it. May our paths cross again one day, Selina Kyle." With that, he turned and walked off down the street from whence he had come. Leaving the same level of stranger to Selina as when he had arrived. She had a great deal to thank him for, fixing her home, caring for her cats, teaching her how naïve some people in this world could still be. _He had best leave the city soon. Gotham will eat up and spit out a man such as him out before he can so much as murmur a syllable of a scream._


	43. Richard 18: Alfred 20: Harvey 3

_**Richard**_: Chapter 18

"You are to wait here, if you see movement, run." Is what Bruce had told him before he climbed down from the roof of the abandoned building to sneak into Arkham Asylum. Dick was to wait on the roof and see if any of the Lannister soldiers caught wind of Bruce, and as his mentor thoroughly made clear, was to act purely as reinforcements if absolutely needed. Dick was never one for listening to orders.

Ten minutes after Bruce had crossed the bridge in between guard crossings and disappeared into the castle, Dick decided to follow suit. He waited until the guards changed posts. Lacking the grappling shot Bruce had used to easily avoid them, he silently ran across the bridge. Using a small grappling hook, he scaled the wall and disappeared on its other side before the guards returned from their walk of the perimeter. He used the hook again to climb into a second story window and gain entrance into the desolate castle. He crept out into the corridor and peered around. After not hearing a sound, he continued on along the corridors until he found himself beside an open doorway with light pouring in from it. He approached the door and peered out, seeing that it opened onto a small stone balcony overlooking the great hall. Below, the sound of men laughing and plates clattering echoed up and off the rafters.

Dick continued on until he heard more echoes of men from around a corner. He waited at it, not daring to look out. There were three of them, close from the sounds of their voices. One with a higher pitched voice spoke, "So what's the point of us sittin' around here anyways? Not like Strange has taken in any visitors since we've come. Not that I mind gold for doin' nothing but sittin' on my ass day in and day out, but you have to wonder why?"

Another spoke, this one had a thicker accent, although Dick did not know where from. "Is' up to Ugo'. He says we stay, we stay. An' we do got guests you dumb mule, member' that lot in the lower levels? The Joker ones that took that Stark brat?"

Now the third one chimed in, his voice more serious in tone than the others. "We aren't supposed to know they are here you bloody fools. Remember what Hugo said? The man that dares says a word of em' gets his ass his own cell. Now shut your traps, and Jerrick you lose, pay up."

Then a shrill, female voice shouted from another doorway. "What are you lot doing? Hugo told you to mind your posts, so get to it!"

The accented man replied, "Why you still talkin' girl? Go bother one of your lil' maids, or kiss Hugo's arse sommore. If you really wann' make his day, I'm sure is' cock could use a good tug."

The high pitched one spoke, "Now, now Mors. Poor little Harley didn't do no wrong, just mindin' her duties. Weren't ya, you nice little sweetling?"

"Well thank you Jerrick, you always were such a charmer. Mors, if you speak to me like that again, I'll tell Hugo and you'll be the one getting a tug of your cock. Maybe he'll feed it to the lizard-lions we keep in the cellars," the girl replied with a rather dark tone in her voice.

Dick heard the sound of wooden chair legs scraping against wood as the men stood. The serious one scoffed before muttering, "Jerrick if you plaid dice half as well as you kissed ass you'd be as rich as Lord Tywin."

"Oh take it easy Michael. You get my gold, I get to kiss some pretty girls' asses. I say we both win," Jerrick laughingly replied. Their voices and footsteps died out as they followed the girl down some far corridor. As Dick readied himself to leave he felt a hand pull back on his shoulder and force him against the wall. Dick's body tensed in fear of being discovered, until his eyes met with Batman's. Then his body tensed for fear of Bruce's wrath.

"I told you to _wait_ _there_," he growled. Dick tried to smile to alleviate the man's anger over his disobedience. "Well I figured if they were already running in I'd be too late to save you. Did you find them?"

Bruce shook his head in dissent. "No, Strange already moved them. They weren't in the dungeons beneath the castle, nor the ones he showed Ned and I in the western wings. He must've sent them back overseas to Casterly Rock on some smuggler's ship. They may be outside of our reach now. I'm heading for Hugo's solar on the third floor, you return to that roof _now_."

He began to move before Dick said, "Well since I'm already here and far worse at sneaking than you are, I would most likely be found out on my leave. So I may as well just come with you." Bruce didn't turn back, only grunted in frustration and continued on down the left adjoining corridor. Dick smirked and followed him.

They made their way up a set of stairs to the third floor, dodging past a wandering guard, and finally arriving at Hugo's solar. It was a large oak door with metal slabs bolted across the top and bottom. The handle was a twisted serpent forged of steel with its fangs bared. Bruce opened the door as silently as he could, and the two of them slipped inside. They slunk into the large solar and Bruce closed the door behind them. Immediately Dick's vision was nearly lost in the darkness that shrouded the room. It was a large room with a high, pointed ceiling. A colossal shelf towering at least twenty feet high covered the back wall, filled with tomes, books, and scrolls of all colors and sizes. A desk stood before it, with odd metal contraptions and trinkets littering whatever space was not covered by unrolled pieces of parchment. Three candles stood across its surface, providing the only light into the room as the massive wooden shudders had been pulled across the windows. Bruce moved to behind the desk, as Dick checked the right wall filled with paintings of nighttime landscapes and bloody battles.

"What are we looking for?" Dick asked as he stared at a portrait of Aegon the Conqueror with his dragon, Balerion, looming behind him.

Bruce opened a drawer and traced some fingers over its contents as he replied, "Anything that tells us where he moved them to, or what he is plotting."

Then a voice rang out from the shadowed corner opposite Dick, "I assure you there are no devious schemes scrawled on those parchments, Batman."

Hugo Strange emerged from the shadows, a wide grin on his face. Bruce and Dick in unison drew bat-knives from their belts as they turned to where the sound had come. Hugo raised his hands in disarmament and shook his head. "No, no I intend you no harm. I knew you would come, I did not know when, but I knew it was an inevitability. I am a foreigner in your home land, an invader, and of course that makes you distrust me. Well I have nothing to hide Batman, as you can plainly see."

"Where did you move them?" Bruce grunted. "I know they were here, where did you put them?"

"Ah the Joker's men? I sent them by ship to Casterly Rock to receive Lord Tywin's justice. I pray you don't mind, there will doubtlessly be more in the coming months until we find the Joker. Oh where are my manners? Good evening Batman and Robin, my name is Hugo Strange. I am but a humble servant of my lord, Tywin Lannister. He graciously allows me to study these criminals before I hand them over to be dealt the king's justice, for I find them most fascinating. But you…you are the gem in the sea of sand," Hugo Strange finished as he came to stand opposite Bruce on the other side of the desk.

"Why me?"

"Because you _represent_ something. Lord Tywin only seeks for power and renown, thinking they will give his life purpose. King Robert loved the thrill of the kill, but now only finds joy in a glass of wine. Eddard Stark has his honor, the Red Viper has his daughters and love for blood, Tyrion Lannister has his whores, and you have your _drive_. That immeasurable flame that burns within you, pushing you past the limits that bind ordinary men. You are truly an impeccable specimen of man," he stated, sounded overly entranced.

Bruce said nothing for a few moments. Then he returned his knives to his belt and walked to the door. Dick followed suit and without a word they left the man smiling in his solar. They followed their path back and out across the bridge to their horses in a side alley. The ride back to the cave was quiet, Bruce clearly thinking over what he had seen and witnessed, and changing his plans. When they entered the cavern entrance to the maze of tunnels, Bruce spoke. "Whoever he is, he's dangerous. Nigma is intelligent, but Hugo has to be the true mastermind behind these ploys."

"What if he was telling the truth? He just sent those men up to Casterly Rock to face Tywin's wrath instead of yours? Since he thought they were Joker's men and all," Dick proposed.

Bruce continued facing forward as they steered their horses right through a narrower tunnel. "No, when I was in the dungeons I found a particular set of tools. Metal poles wound into a screw with a pointed edge, racks, sickles, chains, lashes and whips…all bloodied. No, they tortured those men thoroughly. Whatever secrets they hid, Strange found." The last few minutes of their ride were silent once more. The tunnels were dark, practically impossible to see through for those whose eyes were not use to the darkness. Bruce navigated them like a master.

As they reached the end of their journey, and saw the torchlight glow upon the stone as they entered the mouth of the tunnel into the cave, Bruce called out. "Lucius, we have an arduous problem!"

When they rode into the cave however, it was not the Summer Islander that greeted them. A man stood at the cave's center, but his skin was a fair white and dark black hair covered his scalp and lower face in bushy curls. He wore a plain wool tunic and breaches, with a large sack over his right shoulder. Bruce dismounted at once, rolling to the floor, and coming up with a handful of his knives. Dick followed suit, an escrima stick in one hand, two bat-knives in the other.

They were close enough to see the man was also rather tall, and had a broad chest and shoulders. He had light blue eyes, with a lightly dimpled chin. A gold chain hung around his neck and dipped beneath his tunic. The stranger took a step forward and Dick reacted recklessly and impulsively. He let his two knives fly at their unexpected guest, and before Bruce could turn to scold him, something _unexpected_ happened.

The stranger held up a hand as if to stop the knives. The bladed points reached his hand, but rather than stab into the soft flesh, they bounced back, as if they were slapping against a stone wall. Two small cuts remained when the knives flew back, but were much shallower wounds than they should have been. Dick stood with his mouth agape. _I know what I saw, that was no illusion or magic or dream. His hand deflected those knives…_

Before Dick could right himself, he heard a ringing echo from where Bruce stood. The knives had slipped from Bruce's fingers, clattering to the cave floor. He stood with his eyes wide and white, his mouth a thin line of caution. Before either of them had time to respond, the stranger spoke, "My apologies, I did not mean to have a first encounter as…ambiguous as this. I was merely here in an attempt to befriend you, not frighten you into attacking me."

Bruce finally found the words to speak. "Who are you, and how did you find this place? And…"

The stranger predicted Bruce's final question. "What was that which you just witnessed? Yes, well…we all have our secrets, don't we Lord Wayne?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed, "Where are Alfred and Lucius, what have you done with them?"

The man smiled. "They are unharmed. Alfred sits in your father's study, reading, Lucius asleep in his chambers on the second floor."

"If Alfred is in the study, how did you find your way here? And how did you know who I am if you didn't enter through the castle?"

The man took three paces forward, dropping his sack to the floor. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you m'lord."

"Try me," Bruce responded with a growl.

"Very well, I can see through your helmet. Just as I can see through this cave's roof and up into the castle above." The man turned his gaze upward and looked as if he were merely inspecting the dangling cave fangs piercing down from the roof. "Your servant is reading the Tales of Brandon the Builder, while Lucius is, as I said, sleeping peacefully in his bed."

"How can you see these things? Even if I were to believe you can see through walls and steel, Lucius must be at least a hundred and a half feet above us. Your eyes would need to be as good as a hawk's," Bruce factually stated. Dick couldn't tell whether he believed the stranger's tales or not.

"Ah yes, well as I said, we all have our secrets. I can see through walls, I have the eyes of a hawk, metal cannot pierce my skin very easily, and I am rather strong. Now as to _how_ I can do these things, that will require a…_longer_ explanation," the stranger finished with a sincere smile. _He is a cheery man. He doesn't seem to be lying._

"Your name," Bruce calmly demanded.

"Well m'lord, you surely strike me as the type that does not appreciate surprises such as my arrival. I know I may seem mysterious but-"

Bruce interrupted, "You were raised lowborn, but you, yourself are not. You instinctually call me m'lord while nobler folk would say _my_ lord. You don't carry yourself like a lowborn though. For you stand tall, and match eyes with not only someone you know to be a lord but a helmeted vigilante as well. You have no discernible accent, but you sound as if you are from Westoros. Your skin is too fair to be from Essos, so your name could hold a clue. Your tunic is stained with sweat, and yet your skin is still a fair shade of white, you don't tan. That's not a characteristic of any breed of man that I am familiar with."

The stranger's brow raised in surprise. "I withdraw my statement about my mysterious nature. Little wonder why none of the criminals of this city get the best of you. My name however will not help you. I was taken in by a couple when I was too young to remember. They are from the Riverlands, a little speck of a village named Smallville. They told me they found me on the bank of the river that the forks converge into as it pours out into the saltsea in the Bay of Crabs. They named me Clark and said that the only thing I had with me when they found me was this." He raised a hand to the golden chain about his neck and pulled on it. As it lifted free of the tunic, Bruce and Dick could see the odd emblem at its end.

It was pentagonal, with a flat top that branched out in two smaller sides at angles, before turning inward into a longer point. A curved, emboldened "S" stood within the golden crest, reflecting the torchlight radiantly like no gold Dick had ever seen. "What does that sigil stand for?" Bruce asked.

Clark smiled. "I don't know any more than you do, unfortunately."

* * *

_**Alfred**_: Chapter 20

When Dick had told Alfred of what was waiting for him in the cave, he could scarcely believe it. A man with skin nearly impenetrable by steel, able to look through walls, or helmets… The fact that this complete stranger now knew Bruce's secret could prove troublesome down the road. If this was no mummer's trick, and this man truly did have these abilities, he could take Westoros singlehandedly.

As Alfred followed down the pathway and entered into the cave, he saw the strange sight. There, standing a few feet from Bruce, was this _Clark_. His hands were raised, his shirt removed, and Bruce was inspecting his chest. The young lord had removed his helmet and armor, and now wore only is black leather breeches and a wool tunic. He was using the edge of his knife to cut along different parts of the stranger's torso, trying to draw blood. When Alfred grew closer, he could see cuts along the hips, arms, and back were shallowly bleeding, while Bruce's attempts across his chest and abdomen were merely thin red lines.

"Master Bruce…is it necessary to be torturing our newest guest?"

Bruce did not stir his gaze from the stranger's chest, as he tried to inflict another cut just above his nipple. "Alfred, meet Clark Kent."

Clark smiled and held out a hand for Alfred to shake. "Alfred, how do you do? Did you enjoy your book?"

"H-how did you know I was reading? And Master Bruce must you torture the man?" Alfred questioned, unsure of whether to believe this stranger truly could see through objects. _This must be some form of dark magic. _

The stranger chuckled, "Oh my apologies, I saw through the roof of the cave. Brandon the Builder was a truly great man, or so my father told me when he read me stories as a boy. And fret not, as you can plainly see, and as I'm sure the boy told you, yes, my skin is harder than most."

Bruce interjected, "_All_, even those with Grayscale. Their skin grows hard like stone but chips and crumbles away like slate. Your skin…"

"Can be inflicted so long as I remain without the warming rays of the sun, or so I've found," Clark finished.

"Out of the sun? So you do have a weakness after all," Bruce finished as he stood and returned to his desk. "Yes, more than one. The sun, _heals_ me somehow, makes it so that not even a crossbow bolt could pierce my skin at close range. Valyrian steel however, has proved to wound me whether I'm under the sun or not. Can I put my tunic back on now?" He asked as he took up his garment from the cave floor.

"So you have the strength of an ox, can see through walls, have skin resistant to any normal weaponry, and yet you do not try to take over the kingdom? Why come here?" Bruce asked, ignoring Clark's question. _Yes, a man with the powers of a god, and yet he walks amongst us as one of us…_

Clark slipped his tunic over his head and walked over to the desk where Bruce stood sifting through vials of different colored liquids. When he had a corked tube of a green glowing mixture in hand, he closed the drawer and returned to Clark's side. He uncorked the vial and dripped a few drops onto Clark's outstretched hand. After a minute of observing to no avail, he returned the vial to its place in his desk.

"So uh, what was that supposed to show, ser? Nothing happened." Clark asked as he rubbed the spot where the liquid had kissed his skin.

"Exactly. To plain skin, mine, Alfred, King Robert's, it would have stained violet. Yours however, remained unaffected. I've…never encountered that before, but you failed to answer my question. What brings you here, if not to conquer?"

Alfred waited with Bruce as Clark formed his response. "My father always raised me to see the good in man. He knew I would always be different, from the other boys in my youth or the other men in my adulthood. But he always stressed that I needed to stand strong, remain above the vices that strangle other men. He raised me to be not only virtuous, but that with my powers I must learn to control them, and never use them for harm. He said they were a gift from the gods, and that the gods do not grant miracles upon regular folk. I must be something special, part of something grand in the eyes of the gods. My parents raised me to test the limits of my abilities, and to never use them to step on other men. I do not wish to rule, nor would I ever. They told me that I must keep who I am, and what I can do, a secret. Much as you have done. That is why I traveled here once I heard of you, I knew you would understand."

_He sounds like quite the prodigal son. Honor-bound, shining, hopeful, everything Bruce is not it would seem. _Alfred looked to his lord, seeing the confusion evident in Bruce's expression. Yesterday, despite how dark the world was, it was simple. Men were ordinary, needed weapons to kill another, were _able_ to be killed by another. Now however, everything would change. As soon as the world learned of what this man could do, and that he was in Gotham, the armies of Westoros would be at Gotham's gate within a week. _The world was barely ready for Batman, I can only imagine how they would react to this man._

Lucius and Dick now walked down the pathway to where they stood. While Dick lingered behind Alfred, Lucius marched right up to the stranger and greeted him with a smile and handshake. "So you're this mystery man? Must say, it's a pleasure."

Clark returned the smile. "Lucius, enjoy your nap?"

The Summer Islander chuckled, "Why yes I did, but my dreams were nowhere near as interesting as what I was woken up to. Care for a drink?"

The man nodded and Lucius walked to his corner and returned with a bottle of Dornish red and some glasses. He poured each of them a glass and clinked their glasses together. "To the world growing ever larger," Lucius said as he grinned and drank.

Now Alfred spoke, "Where do you come from, ser?"

Clark turned to look upon Alfred. His eyes were warm, and his smile was inviting and sincere. _This man is no conqueror. _"I am told Bruce traveled the world for quite a long while before returning to this city as Batman. Well, I carried out a similar mission, I suppose. Bruce was a hurt, angry orphan that left with a desire to find purpose in what had happened, to find the means to combat the darkness that shrouds this city, correct? Well, I left…out of purposelessness. I knew not what my purpose was here, or anywhere for the matter. When my parents died, I felt alone. I didn't have a purpose to save my city such as you did, Bruce. I wished to help people, but my father always feared that, with my abilities, I would inspire more terror than hope in people. I wandered the world lost, scared, unsure of where to go or who to turn to. I was a smith's apprentice for a while, I traveled with a mummer's show as a beast tamer, then I became a sailor for a long while until I heard of you when we made port in Pentos."

"And what help do you require from me?" Bruce asked. Not touching his wine, he instead deciding to open a large scroll. A map of Westoros and Essos was scratched onto it in multicolored ink.

"What did you do when you discovered your purpose? Did it give you clarity?" Clark asked. _This man is as confused as Bruce was as a boy…_

"It gave me nothing, for I had already lost everything. Knowing what I must do did not give me what I had lost back, only a way to strive forward and ensure that it never happened _again_. Not in my city," Bruce stated sternly to the stranger.

Clark looked almost disappointed. "That is what I was afraid of. If I do find my purpose, what if it gives me nothing, and I still feel this…apart, from everything else."

Lucius stepped to Bruce. "Are you sure we can trust this man? Who says he isn't simply lying, a mummer or dark sorcerer, or maybe a spy?"

Alfred cleared his throat and spoke, "I trust him."

Everyone turned and looked at Alfred in surprise. Clark smiled and nodded in appreciation. "Thank you Alfred, you are most kind."

Bruce walked to his servant's side and whispered in his ear, "Are you sure we can trust him, Alfred? He still is a stranger, and one with abilities the likes of which I have never seen." Alfred nodded and whispered back, "I know Master Bruce, but he has this _aura_ about him. He seems to have a very kind, gentle soul."

Clark called out apologetically, "I should have mentioned. I can also hear sounds from afar, leaves rustling in a nearby forest, or even a whisper."

Lucius chuckled at the irony while Bruce sighed. "Very well, if you can trust him, I shall put my faith in him as well. Clark," he said, turning to face their unexpected guest. "You are welcome to stay here until you decide to leave Gotham….but so long as you do stay here…I have a way you can help me. Do that, and I will help you in any way I can."

* * *

_**Harvey**_: Chapter 3

It had been an eventful day. News had reached King's Landing from the exiled spy Jorah Mormont that the Targaryen girl was pregnant by a powerful Dothraki Khal. In his absolute rage and hatred for the family of dragons, King Robert deemed it fit to hire assassins or reward any man that should kill her with a lordship. Honorable Lord Eddard Stark being the dutiful man he was, had argued vehemently against the order. Harvey knew the two were fast friends, but how radically their views of what was best to secure the kingdom's safety were as contrasting as night and day. They disagreed so violently in fact, that Lord Eddard up and quit his position as Hand of the King. He was to send off on the morrow, returning to his cold castle of Winterfell far up in the North. Harvey would be sad to see him go. He felt a brotherly bond with Jaime, nothing for his sister or the rest of the Small Council, and would attend to King Robert as much as was within his power but never cared overly for the man. He was the king and it was Harvey's duty to serve him. Eddard on the other hand, his dutiful resolve to stay true to his honor and virtues was refreshing, and an aspect Harvey greatly admired in the man.

Harvey gazed out at the night, unable to sleep. His wife was still asleep in bed, her dark auburn hair spread, covering her breasts and pillow. She looked so peaceful in the candlelight. Harvey had met Gilda at an inn in Gotham. Her father was a knight of the Reach, taking her to meet with the Waynes for her to become acquainted with their son. It was a folly of course, the son of the second richest family in Westoros would never wed a plain knight's daughter, and yet so many came to try. They had met in the inn as Harvey's father owned it, and would regularly come to collect his due. The two of them got along quickly, and in their youth she would visit the city a few times each year to see him. Five years ago they were wed, Harvey a respectable eight-and-ten, Gilda two years younger.

She always wished for a child, but was barren, unable to give Harvey an heir. To this day it still troubled her, but Harvey had accepted it. He loved her whether she was fertile or barren as a desert. He said the vows knowing full well the future they would have together, and that was what Harvey wanted. To grow old with her and one day retire to his estate in Gotham City.

Gilda was to remain here during his trek back to his home city, much to her protest. Harvey knew she would be safer here, and dared not risk any harm befalling her. _I wonder what Bruce would think of her?_

Harvey missed his childhood friend dearly. They had played together since they were babes, and were thick as thieves. Bruce had been there for him when Harvey's mother had died, even despite their young age the boy's consoling was surprising but appreciated. Harvey remembered how heartbroken he had been when his friend, who had helped him through such a difficult time, was put through an even worse affair over a year later. _Soon I will see you again old friend, and we can catch up on all of those years lost to us._

The rain was falling down steadily, pattering off the tiles of the rooftops and the wood of the buildings. Harvey lived in one of the cleaner dwellings beside the Red Keep, opting not to live within the castle itself. Despite Harvey's lawful nature and high position, he was still a man of the people. He had befriended nearly everyone on the street in which his home stood. The elderly couple living to the right of his two story wooden apartment, and the baker to his right would always give him a free loaf whenever he saw Harvey pass. The sewing maidens that lived in three of the buildings at the end of the street would always be over, sewing and gossiping away with Gilda. It made him smile to see her so content.

This night the street was quiet, a fog hung overhead as the clouds blackened out the sun and stars. _It's almost as if the skies prepare for a storm that isn't even here. _The street below was barren and riddled with shadows, most of the torches doused by the rain. One shadow in particular however piqued Harvey's eye, as it was _moving_. A horse slowly clopped down the cobbled street, the rider too shrouded by the cover of night to make out. Harvey grew weary, until he saw the stranger raise and arm and wave it down.

Harvey grabbed his sword from his desk and proceeded down the stairs to the front door. He cautiously opened it as the rider pulled up. Harvey held up his candle to the rider's face, to see bright green eyes and golden locks of Jaime Lannister beneath the cloak's hood. "_Jaime_? What are you doing here at this hour?"

Jaime said nothing, only dismounted and stood to meet his friend's gaze. Harvey took note of the panic in his friend's eyes, and the subtle quiver of fear in his lips. "You fool, what have you done?" Was all Harvey could say. Whatever it was, he knew it was serious to shake famed Kingslayer this severely.

"H-his wife took my brother Harvey. What else was I to do?" His friend replied.

"Whose wife? What happened to Tyrion, Jaime?" _If he has killed, they will surely hang him. _

Jaime swallowed, "Catelyn Stark kidnapped him on the Kingsroad. Little bastard never could watch out for himself without me there to protect him…"

Harvey's blood froze, his heart stopped. "Jaime…what did you do to Ned…"

Jaime shook his head, "I did not harm him. I mean, I would have…my blood was boiling Harvey, my eyes were white with rage. I killed his men, and fought him, but a horse's hoof beat me to the blow and crushed his leg. That seemed to wake me up, and I rode off. I know they'll be hunting for me, so I must take my leave quickly. I just needed to come and say my goodbyes to you first. You know me in a different way even mine own sister is blind to. You know I don't act out of evil will. With Aerys, or even now with Ned. They took my brother Harvey, I must get him back. My father will likely not raise a hand, nor my sister, so it must be _me_." His heart was set on this fool's mission, Harvey could see that plainly. If he road north to free Tyrion he would only get himself captured, or worse.

"No, you must ride for Casterly Rock. You father will protect you, King Robert wouldn't dare test his forces against those of your lordfather's. Flee there and wait to see what Catelyn intends for your brother. Tyrion has found himself in stickier situations and lived to tell the tale. In another few months we will all be round a table, drinking and laughing over this. Why would Catelyn want Tyrion in the first place?" Harvey had a sneaking suspicion, but he could not be sure.

"Because she blames him for the man that tried to kill her son, while he laid in a coma in his bed. She surely intends harm to him, and I must stop her before my brother grows even shorter by a head," Jaime stated determinedly.

"Your brother has no reason to kill the boy, but…" Harvey trailed off, unable to accuse his friend of conspiring to murder a child.

"I do? Why would I kill a boy, Harvey? Do you think me that cruel?" Jaime feigned offense. Harvey could tell because he had seen Jaime swallow his offense every time someone called him Kingslayer.

"Jaime, I've been your friend for years, tell me the truth of the matter. I can see it weighing down on your conscience," Harvey stated softly. He needed to hear his friend's account of what transpired at Winterfell, to lay more than one worry to rest.

Jaime sighed, "The dagger sent after the boy was not by my hand. I hoped he would never wake. It would have been so much simpler then. The knife was Cersei's doing most likely, although she'd never admit to it."

"Why Jaime, why would you and Cersei want the boy killed? What was there to gain?" _There is no other option, it must be…_

Jaime suddenly dropped his vulnerable expression and took up a stern gaze at his friend. "Well judging by your persistence, I'm assuming you know very well why."

_That is like to be the most definitive answer I get from him. _"I never cared what was going on between you and your sister, Jaime. You are a good man, and a good friend. We have trusted each other with much and more over the years, and I pray you find your way safely to Casterly Rock. You are like a brother to me, my friend."

Jaime placed a hand on Harvey's shoulder and squeezed gently. His eyes were pits of wildfire in the torchlight, emotions waging war with themselves within. "I tell you this because I trust you, friend. Should you run to King Robert with this information, well I would hate to have yet another enemy in this world. The Seven know I have enough as it is."

_He trusts me greatly to tell me such incriminating truths. But do I protect my friend, an attempted child-killer, father to incestuous children, lover of a blood sister? Where is the fairness in that?_ Harvey felt his father's coin grow twenty times heavier in his pocket. "I know my friend, and do not worry, this shall remain between us. I cannot condone your actions, but you are my friend through and through. Now go, you need as much time as you can get."

Jaime slowly nodded before giving Harvey one last pat on his shoulder. He turned and grabbed the horse's saddle. Before he could mount, Harvey called to him, "The Stark boy didn't fall, did he?"

Jaime's shoulders slumped, his head bowed down. Wordlessly he mounted his horse and grabbed hold of the reins, donning his hood once more. He turned the horse to face Harvey one last time, "Have a good night, my friend." Jaime Lannister turned his horse once more and rode off down the street at a hastened pace. _Goodbye, my friend, may your time away from this city give your mind and soul clarity and peace. _


	44. Bruce 26: James 22: Joker 9

_**Bruce**_: Chapter 26

Bruce had dismissed Alfred, Lucius, and Dick to bed. He wished to have a moment alone with their unexpected and unprecedented guest. The stranger made him uneasy, a feeling Bruce was not common to experiencing. Clark had the ability to beat legions of men on his own, and that was a power not even the king could boast.

Clark smirked as Alfred finally disappeared out of sight on the cave's dark pathway. "You still do not trust me."

Bruce remained unmoving as a mountain. "No, would you if the positions were switched?"

"I have not yet lied to you. I've told you my abilities, where I hail from, the extent I know of my coming into this world, even my weaknesses. I have gone against everything my father warned me against. Only for the sake of you _trusting _me."

"You have powers the like of which I have never seen before, abilities I don't believe the _world_ has seen before, and you accuse me of being too distrustful?" _He could crush my skull with a single backhand; he could have for any man he ran into in life. Why hasn't he?_

"I suppose it is because I have more faith in men than you do. You see a man and sum up his faults and weaknesses, how you can exploit them physically or verbally. I meet a man and would rather greet him, trust him even. Living life in such paranoia would make for a terribly lonely life I would imagine," Clark responded. _He answers distrust with open ridicule. He does not know how to win an argument. _

"And living your life trusting and believing every person you meet is good is a naïve and foolish way to go about it. You're only like to be stabbed in the back continually and let down as if it were for sport, especially for a man with powers such as yours," Bruce countered.

Clark chuckled, Bruce found the noise incredibly irritating. "Then I suppose it is good that no blade could successfully stab me in the back. Why are you so angry at people? There are some good apples in the lot of them. Clearly you can see that if you are willing to risk your life to save them every night?"

"I save them because it is _my_ purpose and duty in this life." Bruce did not care for this stranger's quizzical inspection of his intent and life choices. Clark had said himself that he was without purpose, so was he only to attempt to ridicule Bruce's for lack of having his own?

"Says who? Who made you commit to this life? I'm certain your parents' spirits would have forgiven you should you have chosen a life in the light. Marriage and children, happiness, leading your city from your great hall rather than from this dark cave?" Clark questioned sincerely. If this were Ned or Alfred, Bruce would have responded with a thorough arguement, knowing their wishes to honor his parents' spirits with a good life, but since Clark knew nothing of him…

"If you speak of my parents in such a way again, I will break each of your arms. I care not if I will need to keep you down here for a week just for the chance of doing it," Bruce growled.

Clark's eyes suddenly lost their jestful glimmer and his expression grew solemn. "My apologies, I did not mean to offend. I merely wished to point out that there were other ways to live your life, why choose this one? If you are so quick to distrust men, why save them with such determination and vigor? It just doesn't make sense to me, ser."

"I don't do _this_ only to save them; I do it to show criminals that there is someone to answer to. To show them that there time of running free in this city has come to its close. At the outset of this, I thought I would help the people grow stronger, and perhaps wish to fight for their own city back. I see now that that dream is like to not come true, as they still run in terror and let anyone with the biggest stick run this city. I only worry that soon a man, such as Carmine Falcone or perhaps even Lord Tywin Lannister, will look most appealing as they will have sticks larger than any Bruce Wayne could come up with." In truth, he did not know if it would ever truly work. The smallfolk may never shed their fear, but Bruce would not be swayed on the chance of impossibility. He would not give up, not even if it took until his last breath at the age of ninety. _It is not the people, but the criminals that must fear._

Clark thought a moment before replying to Bruce's declaration of his mission. He looked saddened. "That is a very long, treacherous quest you undertake. Even if, as Batman, you have the 'biggest stick', it may…"

"It will," Bruce interjected. Clark continued, "I was not going to say that it may not work, I was going to say…"

Bruce cut Clark off again, "I know what you meant. You were going to say 'it may kill me,' and I am stating, I know. I'm saying that I _know_ it will kill me. The fact had not eluded me, and I grasp it in its entirety. I am Batman, protector of this city. I will protect people, solve crimes, I will guard the innocent, and bring the guilty to justice. The end of the tale of the Batman will be that he is _dead_, for in the end, the Batman dies. What else would I do? Retire? Live out the rest of my days in this castle playing _cyvasse_? It does not work that way, it _can't_. I fight until one day I can no longer, and I drop. But until that day comes, I _fight_."

Clark listened in awe to his words. Bruce still did not fully trust the stranger, but Alfred had the right of it. There was something, _good_, about Clark Kent. He had an air about him that inspired trust, faith, _hope_.

_He is as different from me as the North and the South. _Bruce could only inspire fear in the hearts of criminals. He was not destined to live his life in the light, like it seemed Clark was meant to. "That is sorry to hear," his guest said solemnly, "you know you could live with the rest of us in the light? As I'm sure your servant has tried to tell you before."

"The light doesn't suit me."

"Ah, no, you enjoy surrounding yourself in this darkness," Clark dryly stated.

"It is necessary. This conversation ends here," Bruce finished, not leaving it up for debate.

Clark remained silent for a few minutes, not sure of how to respond after Bruce's order. Bruce silently observed his guest. The man's beard was finely trimmed, and a dark black, blacker than even Bruce's own hair. His eyes were warm, as was his smile. _Everything about him is built to make people trust him._

Then, Clark chuckled. "You know, my father once caught me trying to steal? I met a girl in the market, she was homeless and her parents gone, she was hungry. So I waited until one of the sellers left his cart to piss, and stole away with three of his apples. When I returned to where the girl laid in wait for me, my father was there. He had given the girl three loaves of bread and some cheese, and was none too pleased with me with me when I showed up. He made me return the apples, paying the seller twice their value for them. He made me _apologize._ _Heh_, that was my father. You either reaped what you sowed from the earth, or you paid with what you earned. 'The harder the work, the great the reward' he'd always tell me."

"How did he die?" Bruce questioned.

"He was older, one-and-sixty, he worked his land everyday with those he hired to help. His heart just grew tired and couldn't keep up with him. That was more than six years ago. I still think of him with each passing day, he was a wise man, my mother as well. She passed from her 'body failin' to do what it was supposed to,' or so she told me. She felt it coming, so we were able to make the most of our time left together. She passed close to a year after my father. People expect you to find the strength to move on with your life after losing someone you loved, but they cannot say justly unless they _know_," Clark finished as he stared into the wood of the desk. Bruce sat across from him, still staring intently at his guest.

"That much we are in agreement of. My father, he always said taking another's life was wrong. Whether it was a man or a deer or rabbit, he had a great distaste for killing. He would still eat the meat that his hunters brought him, and still vowed that he would still order the city guard to kill any who should storm Gotham's gates, but he knew this was a hypocrisy. It was one he chose to live with. Others called him a fool, but I still was proud of him. He accepted that he could not control other men, and never attempted to do so. He believed there was still _good_ in all people, and he sought to find ways to bring that out of even the darkest of men. I have tried to live my life in a similar fashion, living with what hypocrisies I must, knowing that I can never control others, but hoping I could _change_ how they viewed things," Bruce said as his gaze fell to the floor. Were this another night, with another stranger, he would have never let himself say such close secrets. _Three nights without sleep must be affecting my judgment, _Bruce rationalized to himself.

Bruce gazed up to meet his visitor's eyes. They were blue, a brighter blue than even his own, with small speckles of green throughout. Clark smiled. "Your father sounded like a noble man. You seem to have much in common in your views."

"Yes, he was, but no, I am nothing like him. He was kind of heart, noble, a _good_ man."

Clark looked taken aback. "And what would that make you?"

"I, am not good," Bruce replied firmly. He stood and moved to return his armor back to its resting place within his wardrobe. Clark stood and followed him as Bruce slid his helmet onto the wooden mannequin head. "If you are not good, what are you?"

Bruce stared into the hollow eyes of his helm. "I am necessary."

Clark chuckled, "If you are what has become necessary in this world, than I fear for it."

A thin smile crept across Bruce's lips. If it had been Ned to speak that remark, he would have been irritated. As he turned to Clark and saw a white toothed grin on the man's face, he appreciated the darkly ironic jape. "You fear for the world since it needs _me_?"

"A man that loses his parents, plunges himself into darkness, and comes out the other side as a force capable of striking fear into tens of thousands and defeating armies? Yes I believe I'm allowed to worry in such a case."

"I could say the same of you. A man with the powers of a god? People could surely learn to fear you as well. How does that affect your outlook of the world?" Bruce questioned.

Clark chuckled once more. "We are very different, ser. I hold myself back for fear of _myself_, of what I am capable of doing. You restrain yourself through sheer will, because of the rules you set for yourself to never go too far. And it doesn't affect my view of the world, m'lord. No matter how dark the world seems to be, there is always light somewhere hidden within it, you need only peel back the shadows until you find it."

_Father would get along well with this man. But you judge me wrongly Clark. I do hold myself back because of the rule I set to never kill, but I set that rule out of fear. Without that rule, I would be no different that the Joker, Lord Tywin, Rha's Al Ghul…perhaps even worse than the lot of them together. I have looked into that deep pit where their souls lie before, but often times looking up from within it. Will guides me, but fear restrains me._

Bruce said nothing, merely gave his guest a hand on his shoulder to signal them to retire up the pathway to the castle. He guided Clark to a guest chamber on the southern corner of the castle for him to rest for the night. As Clark slipped inside the room, Bruce allowed himself a small smile. "I hope you aren't too fond of that beard of yours, I'll need it off if you are to help me." He left his guest open mouthed in surprise as he closed the door and returned to his chambers for a restful night of sleep, or however many hours of it that he could muster.

* * *

_**James**_: Chapter 22

"No thank you, my dear," James told the serving girl to send her on her way. Nothing would deter his attention from the crowd tonight. With Joker on the loose, Nigma possibly conspiring behind his back, and the Seven knew what other dark secrets lay hidden in this city, no one was safe. Anytime the city had tried to have a celebration, it seemed the gods revolted at the idea. First the circus, then Lord Tywin's feast, James would be damned if he would let something ruin this night.

James thought it was brave of Lord Wayne to try and turn the terribly dark event of the anniversary of his parents' deaths into a celebration in their remembrance. Twice so, seeing as how well the other grand events that had been planned on the lord's behalf had gone. _So long as I don't see a white faced man or one in Lannister armor, I'll be able to enjoy my evening._

Harvey Bullock was reporting to James every half hour as he made his rounds. James and two centuries of his men lining the perimeter or mingling amongst the smallfolk of the square. The festivities had already been going on for near an hour, and so far no signs of trouble had stirred. For that James was doubly grateful. If he went the rest of the night without needing to draw his sword, he may just become a religious man.

"Father." James heard spoken behind him in the soft voice of his daughter. He turned to face her. She had her hair up in a pulled up tail, sprouting like a wave at the back of her head. She wore a lovely violet summer dress, with a teal gemstone necklace beneath her chin. As always, she looked radiant, and far higher in class than James looked to be sure. He wore his City Watch standard doublet, sword at his belt, freshly washed breeches and dark brown boots with buckles just above his ankles.

"You look lovely tonight, Barb." _She's a woman grown now. She'll be wed within the next few years, off to some knight's boy in another city perhaps. Then, I'll truly be alone in this cursed city…_ James threw the thought from his mind. Tonight was supposed to be a happy occasion, not focusing on that which could not be changed.

She looked to the ground in embarrassment. "Thank you, father. Have your men run into any trouble…?"

James shook his head and sighed in relief. "Not so far, but the night is still young." He gazed over to the long, wooden table where Lord Wayne and some of the other lords sat. Wayne had a cup of wine he was whirling about in one hand, his other wrapped around the waist of the whore sitting upon his lap. They were singing some cheery song, but James could not discern the words over the loud chattering of the crowd and music. The young Grayson even seemed to be enjoying himself, occasionally turning back to whisper a jape to his servant, or tossing a bone to one of the passing dogs.

_It is a good night for everyone._ Then he heard _his_ voice. "Why Ser Gordon, what a pleasant surprise."

He turned to match gazes with Edward Nigma. He was donned in a white doublet with a velvet waistcoat over it and matching trousers. His orange hair was slicked back and he had shaved the patch of stubbled whiskers from his jaw. The golden lion of Lannister was sewn into his breast, almost as if to taunt James. Nigma turned to his daughter, "Good evening my dear, don't you look simply radiant this evening." He kissed her knuckles politely and bowed his head. It made James' skin crawl.

"Edward, I thought you would be too busy in your hunt to join us. We hadn't seen you in days, some feared you were dead in a side alley somewhere," James stated plainly.

Edward smiled. "But not you Ser, with your gentle soul I'm sure you wished for my health each passing day."

James returned his smile. "Every night before I laid my head down to sleep."

"Spectacular! Young miss, would you care to hear a riddle?" Before James could cut in and put a stop to Nigma's games , his daughter nodded with gleeful anticipation. Edward cut James a quick glance of silent victory and knelt to meet his daughter eye to eye.

"Very well my lady, as you wish._ Only one color, but not one size, stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. Present in the sun, but not in the rain. Doing no harm, and feeling no pain._ What am I?" He finished with a wry grin. _He does enjoy his boasting so._

Barbara thought a hard minute, tapping her fingers against her forehead as she folder her arms in thought. After thinking for a while in vain, she shrugged and looked up to Edward for the answer. "A _shadow_ my dear. For it is only ever black, and beneath us. It stalks us beneath the sun, but hides beneath the rain. It does us no harm for it is but a figure we cannot touch, and feels no pain for it is not truly _there_." Edward stood and glowed in his self-loving embrace of his wit. James could see through the mummer's trick though. _Batman, feels no pain for he is not a true man, does him no harm for he is but a shadow beneath him. He is only ever black, and can easily take flight, but will always be beneath him. _Before James could question Edward on the matter, a scream rang out from the nearest street entryway into the square.

Sixty paces from where James stood, a boy had ripped a golden necklace from a woman's neck and proceeded to make his escape. James' men cut off his escape route down the street of the nearest alley, so he leapt to the building at his back and climbed. He climbed with a rather surprising amount of speed and agility, jumping from one brick sticking out from the rest to a windowsill and finally his fingertips reached the roof's ledge. He pulled himself up, just at the edge of where the torchlight from the square below faded into the darkness of the night sky. The building stood three stories, and climbing it was no small feat.

As the boy climbed up onto the roof and turned to the crowd below to beam with pride for his daring escape, a large shadow crept up behind him. The shadow then doubled in size as the wind picked up, blowing his cape with the tattered edges off to the side. James could see the shadow's strong hands grab the boy by the collar and spun him on his heels to match gazes. Then the boy's feet raised from the rooftop, lifted up into the air by a shadow that almost appeared as if he were not there. The shadow stepped to the edge of the roof, coming into view as he held the boy over the ledge.

Batman looked even more menacing as the light of the many torches in the square dimly glowed off his metal armor. His strong jaw also seemingly glowed as it was the only bare skin Batman ever showed. "There's your shadow right there Nigma," James dryly declared to his irritating consort. Edward's jaw dropped at the unexpected sight of his quarry. He looked unblinkingly from the armored vigilante on the roof to the drunken lord who still nipped at his whore's neck, unaware of the events happening around him. James could read the delicious expression on Edward's face as if it were scrawled in colossal writing on a piece of parchment. _He was wrong, _knowing that fact put a grand smile on James' lips.

He didn't have time to wonder how often Nigma had felt this emotion as he suddenly turned on James. "I do believe it is your duty to apprehend that figure up there is it not? Lest Lord Tywin shall ride down here from his rock, which I'm sure would foul his mood."

James was going to argue against him, saying that protecting the people of the square was more important than apprehending a masked vigilante who had yet to kill, rape, or steal, but he decided against it. He knew Batman wouldn't be caught by his men, and that he would lose them within ten minutes besides. "Bullock!" He called out to his captain, "Bring him in." Bullock nodded and shouted to any surrounding guards to seize the Batman.

Batman seemed to take notice of the order, as he turned his gaze down to the square. His cape was blowing in the wind at his side like black hellfire from a dragon's throat. He leaned into the boy's ear and whispered something before letting him drop. The boy fell about ten feet before his ankle caught on a line and he lay dangling from the rooftop by a foot as his arms flailed about. As two guards lagging behind the others passed James he called out to them, "You two, get up there and cut the boy down. You'll fair better at that then catching Batman." The two gave a cautious nod and changed directions to the building's front door.

Of the various times his men had tried to chase Batman over the last few weeks, they had always turned up empty handed. A few of them had seen Robin, with his brightly colored garments sticking out against the dark of night, but none had really seen more than a blur. _You'll hunt me,_ Batman's words echoed in his head. James sighed, _If that's what it takes to keep you going, so be it. _

The boy was pulled up in front of James ten minutes later, kicking and writhing against the men holding him. James knelt down to stare into the young boy's dark green eyes. "So you had an interesting little voyage didn't you?"

The boy scoffed, "Let me free and I'll send your head through a voyage."

James chuckled and stood. "You've a lot a fight in you. What's your name lad?"

He finally slowed his writhing and accepted his capture. He let out a large sigh as his pent up frustration blew out between his lips. "Jason, last name doesn't matter."

"Very well _Jason_, take him back to my personal cells in my keep. Give him some water and some bread, he'll hold," James turned as the boy was led away. _Youth, such a chaotically unpredictable thing._ He remembered his time as a boy, accepting any challenge to a blunt edged sword duel he could find. The cries of applause when he won, the stinging of bruises when he lost, it was all clear in his memory. He remembered when one of the biggest bullies in Highgarden, Arnold Flass, decided to challenge James when he was five-and-ten. He was two heads taller than James, three years older, and much thicker with muscle. He was greatly wanting in wits and discipline though. James had beat him, but not without a broken rib, bloodied nose, a black eye, and an assortment of bruises. Flass had ended up with worse though, his pride had been ripped from him. _Bloody fool went off and got himself killed in the war of the rebellion._

James had seen no hint of Edward since he disappeared into the crowd after Batman fled, while Bruce Wayne stayed at attention with his whore. In truth, James had stopped caring who the Batman truly was a while ago. _It doesn't matter whose under there, what matters is what he does for this city. Something I can never repay him enough for._

There were no problems for the rest of the night. Lord Wayne, his female companion, his servant, and the circus boy all boarded their carriage and left. The smallfolk drunkenly found their ways back to their steads. The performers grabbed whatever spare coins they could find on the street or ale that had been left untouched and disappeared back into the maze of alleys and streets. And James, he escorted his daughter home for a restful night of peace.

* * *

**Joker**: Chapter 9 

Joker whistled as he stepped up to the little lordling's gates. The wall wasn't as tall as Wayne Castle's, but they were sufficient enough. Two sellswords stood at attention where the thick iron gates stood together, or as much at attention as a sellsword could stand. One was leaning against a gate door picking his teeth with a knife while the other already looked rather drunk and was drinking from a horn of ale. He dropped the ale and the other readied his knife as they saw Joker approach.

"Evening sers, I'm sure old Ozzy told you what befell the last bunch of his that tried to stand against me. If I were you I'd save myself some blood and let me pass. I'm sure he'll wish to see me," Joker chimed with a beaming smile.

The men did not move, their eyes unwavering from where Joker stood. He scoffed, "Well _go on_, _call him!_ Oy, I remember when sellswords were a respectable, intelligent kind."

The drunken one suddenly looked much more sober in Joker's presence, and banged on the wall for his ally to open it. He leaned behind the gate for a few moments before returning with five more sellswords. They all stood, swords drawn, for a few minutes until the gate doors opened and a man waved them in. As he passed the sellswords, Joker abruptly turned and shouted, "_BOO!"_ Three of them dropped their swords in shock, the other two pissed themselves, but retained their grip of their blades. _They would've been the ones to live longer, if by only a moment._

Joker walked in through the courtyard and was led around the small castle to its rear. It was a ghostly looking thing, with cobwebs visible even on the outer supporting arches and windows. It was a wonder how long they had remained untouched. The sellsword led Joker past some spindly trees, a bush that looked either burnt or dead, but retained its dirtied leaves, a small pool of water with dead fish floating at its surface. _This place looks even drearier than what I imagine Bats must live in._

As they rounded the rear of the castle, a large wooden structure rose up, covering the entire yard from the castle to its outer walls sixty paces away. It was at least three stories tall, standing a good ten feet above even the castle's flattened roof. It had a pointed roof, and three, tall glass windows on each side, stretching the height of two men. The man led Joker in through the tall iron door with eagles, storks, hawks, swallows, and other birds engraved on it, and into the building.

Trees littered the room, of varying heights and thickness, different colored barks and leaves. Some were familiar, the oaks and cherry trees, others were clearly foreign. A tree no thicker than Joker's leg reached up to the ceiling, with long, flat leaves hanging down from its top. There was tall grass everywhere, and bright green bushes and ferns sprouting out among the blades of grass and trunks of trees. Joker followed the cobbled path that parted the sea of grass. The most bizarre, and annoying aspect of the building was its residents. Birds were everywhere, in the branches, flying through the air, on the ground, one or two even tried to land on Joker's shoulder. There was a large white crane wading through a small little pool, its beak long and bronze colored with beady little eyes in its skull. Yellow warblers and blue jays flapped over his head squabbling in a loud, raucous tongue. Joker spied more exotic birds, a peacock from the shores of the Jade Sea, its long green tail dragging behind it with its painted brown and blue eyes staring into Joker's. There was also some bright pink bird with a hooked beak and legs as thin as Joker's small finger ruffling their feathers on the opposite end of the pool from the stork.

Then Joker saw him, the squat little lord tossing crumbs out to a group of swallows on the ground. A hulking, large beast of a bird perched itself on his shoulder, its wide yellow eyes following Joker as he neared. The vulture's head was featherless, covered in leathery pink skin that looked more loose and wrinkled than that of a man a century old. _An ugly bird for an ugly man._

Oswald Cobblepot did not stir from his ritual as they stopped at his left. From this side the mangled eye could not be seen, but Joker had heard tales from his men of how ugly his handiwork had scarred the fat, balding man. The ugly creature turned its head to gaze directly at Joker now. "What do you want?"

Joker smiled, "I know I have a horrible way with first introductions, but I was hoping I might, _mend_ some bridges."

The man had a fat belly that curved out from the line of his breeches. He had on a black tunic with a silk cloak draped around his pudgy little figure. He had a long nose that peaked out from his nose in a point, and needed to waddle whenever he moved due to his stout little legs. It was hardly a wonder why people called him the _Penguin,_ after the sigil of his house. He tossed the last of his crumbs at the bird and turned to face Joker. It had been over a month since he had last laid eyes on Cobblepot, and what his men had told him had not gave the wound justice.

The skin had healed over the edges of the glass. It must have been stuck into the skull if it had not been removed. It was still swollen, and made the fat man's face even uglier. His eye could be seen blurrily through the bottle's bottom. His mouth was in a scowl, his one good eye glaring with his brow creased down. The other brow trapped and disfigured beneath the bottle end, leaving him to look even queerer as a man. "What says I don' jus' get your head cut off? That'd make me a lovely present."

"Oh yes where are my manners, _m'lord_? It is m'lord yes? Although, I know not of what your family exactly presides _over,_ seeing as Wayne's got the run of this place. What was the tale again? Your grandfather used to rule over that shithole of a city Bloodhaven down the road? And he was so awful at the job that they ran him outta' town so he settled his flock here? _HA!_ Seems like your family has drawn its wings closed and remained held up in this coop for too long. Your father must be ashamed, oh wait a moment, I _forgot_, how rude of me. My deepest condolences for your loss, _hehe_," Joker charmed as he bowed deeply before the man and his creature of a bird. Oswald's father had passed a week ago, but since the old shrew rarely left his castle, no one had heard. Just as Oswald had hoped, Joker figured.

Joker savored the surprised expression on Oswald's non-maimed half of his face. Only his mouth's gaping was unaffected by the bottle's wound or surrounding swelling of the skin. "What's the matter you old cod? Bird got your tongue? _Hahahee! _Oh how I do amuse myself. It was from his old age yes? Or was it something more…devious?"

As Joker grinned wide, thoroughly enjoying Cobblepot's expression as if it were a choice flank of beef, the little lord spoke. "H-how did you?"

"How did I find out? How did I discover that your father in fact died from poison, and not his affliction of age? Why my boy, you just told me so. Now, I wonder what is to happen to his estate and wealth…oh wait a moment, that would all fall into your lap now, would it not?" Penguin glared at Joker alongside his creepy, winged monster.

"I want your head," he growled. "Aye, and I want to make you a deal," Joker replied tauntingly.

Oswald blinked, not expecting an offer to come from his threat. "A deal of what? You aren't going to talk your way outta' this you pale-faced freak. I'm gonn' hav' your head on a platta' and feed it to ole Serene ere'." The beast on his shoulder either squawked or cackled or some monstrous combination of the two as its beaks parts maniacally. Joker winced at the unpleasant sight of the two creatures in front of him before combing a hand through his hair and replying, "Yes well, as much as I would love such an experience I must politely decline. I will however, offer you an, _opportunity._ You work with me, and we'll take over the city together. I have need of your swords and men, they'd be most helpful."

The fat nobleman scoffed, "And what do I need you for?" Before he could take his next breath, Joker was at his throat with a knife. The bird tried pecking its beak forward aiming for Joker's face, but he grabbed it by the neck and held tight until it stopped its writhing. The sellsword behind him drew his blade but made no further steps when the blade at his bank's neck began wetting with blood. Oswald winced at the pain. Joker stared into the noble's one good eye and his voice grew dark, and coarse. "You need me for the _fear_. Who would be afraid of you? You're a fat little man with a big bird on his shoulder. You wield umbrellas and bread crumbs, not blades. You've killed your father for his gold, aye, good for you, but you did it with _poison,_ a woman's weapon. I use my _hands_, knives, nasty little mixtures that will sear your flesh to the bone. _I_ am the true face of crime in this world. _I _am the ugly face no one wishes to look upon. Now, you can choose to hold onto this grudge against me for that bottle in your face if you wish, but ask yourself, will that get you anywhere? _When I take Gotham to the sound of laughter and cries of anguish, which side will you choose to be on? _The side that laughs and cries, or the side that _wins_," Joker snarled. The fat man's face was white, even his bird was trying to pull away from Joker's grasp to fly off. Joker laughed as he let go of the two of them and stood straight, "_Hahehe, _oh Cobblepot don't look so piss-less, I was only japing, of course. Now what do you say to my offer then, ey' Ozzy?"

Oswald straightened himself and brushed his hand down his tunic to smooth it out. Serene took flight from his shoulder to find shelter up in some high branch. "Very well Joker, I'll work with ya' on this, but if you cross me, you'll be beggin' the Otha' to take mercy on your sorreh' soul. And don't be callin' me Ozzy, if you don't gotta' use your name I don't wan' mine. It's Penguin now, Lord Penguin. Yeh', I like the sound of that."


	45. Alfred 21: James 23: Selina 18

**Alfred**: Chapter 21

"How was my performance?" Clark chuckled. It had been two nights since Batman's _appearance_ at the celebration. Yesterday Bruce had taken the day off to show Clark around the city, leaving Dick to his training, Lucius to his forge, and Alfred to himself. While Lucius was still wary of this new stranger, Alfred was glad that Bruce was deciding to trust Clark. Bruce had told Alfred last night that he had shown him the city walls, the bay, the edge of the Narrows, the abandoned inn where he had once nearly been caught, and Arkham Asylum. To Lucius it seemed completely bizarre for Bruce to trust a stranger in such a way, but to Alfred it made more than enough sense.

_Clark is in league with the high order of honorable, good men that his father and Lord Eddard belonged to. Bruce can place faith in this man because Clark is of the same blood of those who inspire him. _Alfred was hesitant to hope that this stranger might widen Bruce's gaze from something other than the cave, but he had an unquenchable flame of hope all the same.

This had been the first time Alfred was alone with the man since his arrival. Clark's hair was shorter now, swept back aside save for a few curved strands across his forehead. His beard was gone from his face, leaving a smooth jaw and slightly dimpled chin in its place. He was thicker with muscle than Bruce, but they doubted any of the smallfolk would be able to discern such a detail from the street so long as Clark stayed to the rooftops. Now that the Lord of Gotham and the Batman had both been publicly seen in tandem, Bruce hoped that would quell the flames Nigma and the City Watch were fanning around his feet.

The muscled chest plate barely fit Clark's broader chest. The helmet had been specifically forged for Bruce, so it awkwardly curved into Clark's squarer jaw and fit tightly to his scalp, giving his head a terrible ache for the rest of the night. His hair was shorter than Bruce's and less thick, so in the least his head probably remained cooler.

"Simply riveting Master Kent," Alfred replied.

Clark chuckled, "Call me Clark, Alfred. I'm a farmer, not a noble." Alfred allowed himself a small smile, "Very well Clark, I must thank you for the way you helped Master Bruce. The suspicion surrounding him had grown thicker over the months and this should hopefully kill the flames so to speak."

"Yes, wouldn't want Bruce to burn his skin after earning such a pale complexion in his cave now would we?" Clark jested.

"I know his ways are strange, but his heart is in the right place."

Clark's brow raised. "His heart seems more set on punishing and scaring criminals than it is to help anyone."

"Yes, his tactics are prone to incite fear and awe, but he works in his own way to save this city," Alfred continued. A smile garnered on his face as he remembered the times when a young boy would charge into his room begging to be read a story.

Clark's face grew darker. "It is more than just this city that needs him, Alfred. I have heard the tales of how Westoros fairs. A Hand of the King lies dead, rumored to have been murdered, and now another is injured at the hand of the Kingslayer. The King does as he likes, with little regard to his kingdom or people. The next in line, Joffrey, is a terrible little monster of a boy."

Alfred thought back to the night past, when Bruce had learned of Jaime Lannister's assault on Ned and Catelyn's abduction of Tyrion. It pained Alfred to deliver the raven's message, but it must be done.

"I'm leaving in the morning. I'll track down that coward of a knight and drag him back to Ned on a platter. Damned Kingsguard and yet he runs around without a care in the world, well we'll see how he acts once Batman has beat him to his life's edge. Alfred, prepare some bags," Bruce had shouted angrily in rapid succession. He slammed his fist into the table, leaving a small dent in the strong wood. Afterwards, as Alfred tended to his lord's hand, Clark volunteered to undertake the journey.

"I could go. I have no city to look after, no one even knows I exist. I'd be like a shadow walking into a city full of them, no one would turn their head. Should Batman or Lord Wayne just appear in King's Landing, the whole of the seven kingdoms would react in fear," Clark suggested.

Bruce thought a moment, "You have a point, but what could you do? You couldn't get close to him."

Clark remained silent for he had no further ideas on the matter either. Then Alfred chose to speak up. "Perhaps, Master Bruce, Clark could pose as a guard willing to be hired? And once in Ned's presence could reveal his true intentions, and request to be with him at all times? Surely no man would be successful in attacking Ned with a man of steel acting as his shield."

"Yes, that will do quite well. And when you're there you should speak with Ned about your purposelessness. A man with honor such as him, he would prove far more valuable with wisdom and assistance than I," Bruce concluded.

Alfred blinked and returned to the present. "As I recall Master Kent, you were the one that said this city needed him more than Lord Eddard in King's Landing."

Clark shook his head. "Not what I meant. This matter I can assist in, but some require his, _special_, talents. If he were in King's Landing now instead of fighting his own personal war of vengeance here, he could have solved Jon Arryn's death by now. Rather than just fighting so desperately to keep peace such as Ned has been striving for, Bruce could have solved the entire conspiracy and true peace could settle in."

_So young, so hopeful, and true. If Bruce were in the capitol, he could have solved the murder with ease. But what am I to do? He will not abandon this city, and so I must stay. _"Then you must go in Bruce's stead. The kingdom has abandoned his city, his parent's city, and I doubt anything could convince him to follow suit. Bruce has been told by countless men what he should or should not do, but in the end he always decides on what he feels _Gotham_ needs him to do. If the time should come when Gotham needs him to protect the realm more so than itself, than Bruce will step into action like an army in and of himself."

Clark sighed, "I just fear what should happen should that moment come too late."

As they walked through the main doors out into the courtyard, Alfred nodded. "As do I."

They were greeted with Dick who hurriedly ran up to Alfred, clutching at the corners of his tunic. "Alfie! Alfie! He's flying! Nightwing's flying!"

As Alfred and Clark gazed up into the sky, Dick's words proved true. The hawk was riding the winds above them. Ducking and diving and dipping through the tumultuous currents of air that rode up from the bay below. But Alfred took more joy from the expression on the excited boy's face than a bird finding its wings again. Dick's face glowed in a way that trumped even when Bruce first agreed to train him.

"That is a beautiful bird, son. How long have you been trying to help him fly?" Clark remarked.

"Months now, I was beginning to lose hope he ever would," Dick replied, never letting his eyes drop from his bird flying above him.

Clark put a hand on his shoulder. "You should never lose hope, Dick. For those that weather any storms that come their way, their faith will always be rewarded. As my father said, any man can earn his right to fly amongst the stars, " he finished as he stole a look over at Alfred. _I hope you're right Master Kent, by the Seven I hope you're right._

* * *

**James**: Chapter 23

"Alright lad, if nothing else you have an appetite," James commented as the boy downed his fourth chicken leg. The boy had only been in his custody for five days and already he had seemingly added some meat back onto his thin bones. His face was fuller now, his arms less like sticks. The scrawny, starving boy had more energy and fight back in him. Jason glared back up at James, as he usually did.

"Yeah, and if you unlock the door I'll show you how much else besides an appetite I got," he retorted.

James sighed. "We've gone over this son, I'm not here to fight you. I'm trying to help you." Jason snorted and tossed the leg bone against the bars of his cell. With a small clang it rebounded and fell to the floor. "Some help. You really wann' help leave the door open when you go home for the night."

"I _am_ helping you. Giving you more than any of those gangs out there would, or whoever tried raising you."

The boy cackled. "My parents are both dead. Dad by some dead beat thugs, dear old ma from some damn potion or whatever that she was addicted to. Across the narrow sea I hear they use it to make the slaves for the fighting pits feel light in the head so they don't fear throwing their lives away. _Heh,_ guess ma liked the feelin'."

James sighed once more and rubbed his brow in frustration. There was no way to get through to the boy. He couldn't hold him long, not at the rate that criminals were being arrested, every cell was needed. James had only one option. "I know you've had it hard lad, I-"

Jason laughed and interrupted, "Oh we all have heard about your rough life, Ser. I might just fall over on my sword were my wife and kid to leave me."

The weathered, tired knight looked past the insult and continued, "Losing your kin is hard, whether alive or dead. Were I to let you go, you'd just end up in some abandoned old alley dead somewhere. There's a man from the Night's Watch on his way down to King's Landing. I'm shipping you and twelve other lads out to join him. The Wall is a good place for a boy lost in the world. It'll give you a sense of direction, a purpose beyond stealing for food and scraps."

The boy laughed mockingly again. "Don't know what to do with me so you send me up there eh? Freeze my balls off for _the good of the realm_. _Ha, _my ass. What say I don't get a choice in all this? The Wall's for killers and rapers, not a boy of eleven whose never drawn another's blood before."

"We've got you on five charges of theft, one for attempted, and I'd bet good coin that you've dipped your fingers into the crime pool before. This'll do you good lad, get you out of this forsaken hole and get you doing something that _helps_ this kingdom," James tried to reason once more.

Jason shrugged and returned to his cot. He laid down and wrapped himself up under the blanket that James had given him. James stood and moved to the door. As he laid a hand on the brass handle he heard a muffled reply from the boy. "Lucky number thirteen eh? Well if I don't have any choice, might as well go along for the ride. Night, Gordon."

"Goodnight lad," James replied as he blew out the candle on the desk and closed the door. _Probably figuring to escape on the journey to King's Landing, poor lad…_

James walked through his keep, nodding to his men or passing them with their backs turned. All of them showed exhaustion and stress. It wasn't just his men that were strained, the entire city seemed on edge. Ever since word had come that Tyrion Lannister had been kidnapped by Catelyn Stark, which resulted in the Kingslayer attacking Lord Eddard Stark, Gotham, along with the entire kingdom, were in a silent and eerie calmness. It was the calm before the storm, or so James' father would say. The moment when the waters quell, the winds die down, the clouds part, and that one shimmering ray of light shines down from the heavens only to be ripped away when the storm returns in force.

He had heard the word from both his men's lips and those on the street. War was brewing, one that could very well gut the kingdom should it not be kept in check. Tywin Lannister would not suffer such a slight to the honor of his house and would surely move to defend it. Many hoped he would do so with pen and paper, but James knew Tywin would reply with sword and steel. Then the North would call up arms as a precaution, and if things were not settled soon enough, war between the North and the Lannisters would begin. _Should the Tyrells join either side, that will assure victory. _

Eddard was assuredly alive in the message from King's Landing, but the Kingslayer had fled. _He'll join up with his loving father, and together they'll threaten to burn the North to the ground. _However many men the North could gather, none would be skilled enough to take a swordsman like Jaime Lannister down in combat. _What am I doing? War is nowhere to be seen. So long as the Imp's alive and Eddard as well then there will be no cause for war. You're just an old soldier too sunk in his ways to give them up, _James reminded himself.

As James strode up the stairs to his chambers, Sarah fell in line with him. "So what's your lord's lot in this?" James asked.

Sarah chuckled, "James, you know Lord Tyrell doesn't move anywhere or do anything until he sees a clear victor in sight and Lady Olenna pats his head and says 'Go on my boy, go play war'. That is to say if there even _is _a war. So long as Lady Stark returns the little nuisance alive and unharmed and Jaime returns to King's Landing to get his slap on the wrist all will be well in the kingdom."

James smiled. _Hopefully that's all this will boil down too._ Gotham was technically under the long arm of the Reach, and the Waynes bent the knee to Lord Tyrell, but with their lack of support to Gotham when Tywin came, James was hard pinned to guess where allegiances would be drawn if war truly did erupt.

* * *

**Selina**: Chapter 18

"Get the bitch!" One of the thugs shouted.

"Come and get it boys," Selina chided. A crack of her whip against one of their skulls, a knee to two groins, and a heel to the chin was enough to put them down. She walked over their bodies in triumph as they lay upon the ground as she continued on her way. A sack of sapphires bounced on her hip with each step. Her latest conquest of the night was a gift from the dusty old Dent estate. Ever since their son moved to King's Landing, and the father passed, a sniveling coward of a cousin stood as guardian of the small castle. _Gotham has a way with scaring rich noblemans' sons away._

As Selina stepped through the abandoned alleyway adjoining the rundown inn, _Crow's Wing,_ with a burned down shell of a seamstress' stead at the edge of the Narrows she heard a voice call out from above.

"Well done," the mysterious voice shouted. _Too cheerful to be Batman, not the same pitch as Traveler's, who…?_ She turned and gazed up at the rooftop above her. She couldn't discern much from the darkness as it was a gloomy night with the sky blotted out by clouds, but she could see the slightest whisper of movement. Whether it was the fluttering edge of a cape or strands of hair being buffeted in the wind she could not say. Then, she heard the _thud_ of boots against stone, the stranger had joined her upon the street.

"I have enough strange visitors as it is, I don't think I could survive many more," Selina quipped to the shadows before her.

The figure did not leave the shadows, only replied in the same monotone voice, "A cat has nine lives I am told."

Selina allowed herself a small grin at the witty response. Her hand moved to her whip at her belt. "Be wary stranger, this cat has a particular taste for drawing blood."

She saw the familiar glimmer of steel as it was drawn from its sheath. The blade slowly entered the light cast from the single torch against the wall as the stranger emerged from the shadows. His blade was drawn up from at his front, pointing directly at Selina as his body turned to its side behind it. He wore light leather armor decorated in blunted metal studs. A pale green jerkin lay underneath that with gray breeches covering his legs. He had a blunted nose, bald head, and sharp, piercing eyes. His features were cast in shadows as he slowly pushed through the shadows towards her.

Selina readied her whips and crouched. "You'll regret this stranger." She brought her arm about in a blur and sent the whip's tip flying for her assailant's head. He ducked with ease and continued his steady advance. She brought the whip back around once, twice, and thrice more times, each one missing their target. Finally, he was but six paces from her as he jerked forward, the blade stabbing at her gut. She rolled out of the way and wrapped the end of her whip around his leg and pulled. He crashed to the floor but within moments had returned to his feet. A smirk grew on his face as she pushed forward with a quick flurry of whippings. They danced in the torchlight, reflecting off of his bald head and swirling blade.

As he thrust forward again she leapt to the side to perch on a barrel only for it to give way under her weight and crack open. Its contents of oil burst forth in a small flood and coated the street. She crashed face first into the oiled stone, dropping her whip into the muck as well. As she tried to stand, her foot lost its way and she ended up back on the street on her rear. The whole while the stranger stood at the pool's edge and waited. _Well at least he is a gentleman of an attacker._

Selina's eyes fell on the torch anchored to the wall to her left. Her hand darted for her whip and before the stranger could move the whip's edge flicked through the flame and was set afire. She whirled the flaming, dancing serpent in her hand with great ease making loops and slashes all around her. The tip touched the pool of oil once or twice and turned the street behind her into a wall of fire. As she focused in on her mysterious attacker, she finally saw the white of his eyes, and they were wide with fear.

The stranger stepped backwards hurriedly, cowering away from the flames. Anytime her whip licked the street near his feet, he would dance away in terror. She smiled in victory. "Not scared of little old me but pissing your breeches at the sight of mere fire? What sort of assailant are you?"

He raised a hand as he yielded. Selina let the flaming whip stay dormant in her hand as she waited for him to speak. "A girl has courage," was all he said.

"I'm no _girl_, you pathetic fool. Why attack me if you're so quick to forfeit? Did you think taking these gems would be so easy?" She shook her hips seductively at the stranger to make the pouch of sapphires jingle as the stones chimed off one another.

The man smiled, "A man has no intentions of becoming a thief. A man only wished to set eyes upon this mysterious cat for himself."

"Well I would say you've had your eye's fill, now leave," she threatened with another crack of her whip against the street stone.

He shook his head. "A man cannot leave yet, Selina Kyle. First, there must be the message delivered."

Selina cocked her head. "How do you know my name?"

"A man knows many things. Of your departed sweet sister, Holly. Of your mother and father, the way he would tell you his stories, the way she smelled of lilacs on warm summer afternoons. A man can tell you of your many nights beneath a sweaty man all for the sake of gold and silver. Of your interest in both Bruce Wayne, and the knight of shadows."

Selina couldn't believe what she was hearing. _He knows more of me than Batman or Wayne together…how? _"Do I know you? What's your name?"

"A man has many names, many faces. What should it matter to you sweet girl, should you know it?"

She smirked, "It would help me sleep at night."

He chuckled, "This is not what keeps you up at night, Selina Kyle. You wonder of life, whether yours has been lived for naught. Whether Holly felt pain when the blade kissed her, whether that night will be your last running across the rooftops, but mostly, sweet girl, your mind has the knight burning in it."

"You're referring to Batman?"

"The knight of shadows, yes. Most perplexing, a man born of fire, living in shadows. A man would have words with him, but now is not the proper time. A man must deliver his message," the nameless stranger continued.

"I see, and would this be your message, or another's? And why are you unable to deliver it?"

"My god's message, and he requires this one to attend to another little girl whose eyes burn bright with courage," he finished.

"Ahh, so you're one of those folk. One of the crazed worshipers of R'hallor, or do you cling to those dusty old Northern gods? And why are you delivering this message to me, and not him?" _He's but a madman, and we surely have enough of those in Gotham. _

"The Dark Knight is crucial to his plans. The darkness is coming, slowly but surely, spreading its terrorizing fingers throughout Westoros. Soon, its fingertips will be at Gotham's Gates, and the Dark Knight must survive. You have been seen in the flames, Selina Kyle. Protect him, watch over him, this is your mission under god's direction."

Selina laughed, "Me? Protect _him_? Tell your god that he has his roles muddled. I'm the thief, he's the protector. Whether he lives or dies is unimportant to me. Now tell me your name."

The stranger smiled and began backing into the shadows from whence he came. Before his face ducked out of the light, his eyes closed and he bowed. "A man has many names." He continued his backstepping until he was fully delved into the shadows.

"I see, and what are you known by currently?"

The stranger then took two steps forward back into the light. Now his features had changed, his cheek and nose had pointed. His scalp was no longer bald, coated in hair that reached down to his shoulders. One half was a pale red, the other milky white. A gleaming smile touched his lips.

"You are smart, sweet girl. I can now see why you mean so much to him. Very well, this man's name is J'onn J'onzz. Goodbye, Selina Kyle." With that, the stranger returned to the shadows. Then, a sight appeared that made Selina's spine grow cold and freeze. Two red eyes stared back at her from the shadows, glowing like cooling embers.

Selina stepped forward within moments after his eyes closed, and cracked her flaming whip into the darkness to see upon the stranger once more. All she was greeted with was an empty street. She shook her head in disbelief and gazed around the alley. _Perhaps I should take a night off, and rest my head._

_Author's note: I'm glad people are enjoying the story! As always, I love hearing opinions and reviews on the story and will always try to respond! I know things like including Superman or making Jaqen into Martian Manhunter might be a little rocky for some but I DO have a plan for where everything is going! After two more uploads I'm going to be taking a hiatus from uploading for a few weeks just as a head's up!_


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